“Whatever did you do to Captain Griffiths, Mummy?” Nora demanded. “Why he passed us without looking down, galloping like a madman, and his face looked--well, what did it look like, Helen?” Helen was gazing uneasily along the sands. “Like a man riding for his enemy,” she declared. CHAPTER XXVII Philippa and Helen looked at one another a little dolefully across the luncheon table. “I suppose one misses the child,” Helen said. “I feel too depressed for words,” Philippa admitted. “A few days ago,” Helen reminded her companion, “we were getting all the excitement that was good for any one.” “And a little more,” Philippa agreed. “I don't know why things seem so flat now. We really ought to be glad that nothing terrible has happened.” “What with Henry and Mr. Lessingham both away,” Helen continued, “and Captain Griffiths not coming near the place, we really have reverted to the normal, haven't we? I wonder--if Mr. Lessingham has gone back.” “I do not think so,” Philippa murmured. Helen frowned slightly. “Personally,” she said, with some emphasis, “I hope that he has.” “If we are considering the personal point of view only,” Philippa retorted, “I hope that he has not.” Helen looked her disapproval. “I should have thought that you had had enough playing with fire,” she observed. “One never has until one has burned one's fingers,” Philippa sighed. “I know perfectly well what is the matter with you,” she continued severely. “You are fretting because curried chicken is Dick's favourite dish.” “I am not such a baby,” Helen protested. “All the same, it does make one think. I wonder--” “I know exactly what you were going to say,” Philippa interrupted. “You were going to say that you wondered whether Mr. Lessingham would keep his promise.” “Whether he would be able to,” Helen corrected. “It does seem so impossible, doesn't it?” “So does Mr. Lessingham himself,” Philippa reminded her. “It isn't exactly a usual thing, is it, to have a perfectly charming and well-bred young man step out of a Zeppelin into your drawing-room.” “You really believe, then,” Helen asked eagerly, “that he will be able to keep his promise?” Philippa nodded confidently. “Do you know,” she said, “I believe that Mr. Lessingham, by some means or another, would keep any promise he ever made. I am expecting to see Dick at any moment now, so you can get on with your lunch, dear, and not sit looking at the curry with tears in your eyes.” “It isn't the curry so much as the chutney,” Helen protested faintly. “He never would touch any other sort.” “Well, I shouldn't be surprised if he were here to finish the bottle,” Philippa declared. “I have a feeling this morning that something is going to happen.” “How long has Nora gone away for?” Helen enquired, after a moment's pause. “A fortnight or three weeks,” Philippa answered. “Her grandmother wired that she would be glad to have her until Christmas.” “Just why,” Helen asked seriously, “have you sent her away?”