The Parson guessed that she was sending him with a purpose; and he was right, for he had scarcely left the room when, on an excuse, she followed him. "Tossell and the children are about due. This man must not see them, of course. As you leave the stables you go up on the Inistow road and head 'em off--keep 'em out of sight until the barouche is past the cross-roads and on the way to Fair Anchor." He nodded, and having left his order with the coachman, climbed by a footpath to a rise of the moor whence he commanded a view of the cross-roads on his right, and on his left of the road running northward like a pale ribbon across the brown heather. Neither vehicle nor horseman was in sight. Nor, though he waited more than half an hour, did any appear coming from the direction of Inistow. At the end of that time, however, he saw the barouche roll past the cross-roads towards Fair Anchor. The coast was clear. So, wondering a little at the farmer's delay, he wended his way back to Culvercoombe. To his amazement, in the hall he ran against Butts carrying a portmanteau, and at the same moment Miss Sally issued from the yellow drawing-room with a Bradshaw in her hand. "Where are the children?" she asked. "Nowhere in sight." "That's odd. Tossell's punctual in everything as a rule--rent included. Well, I must leave you to keep an eye on them. . . . Do you know anything about Bursfield? The best hotel there, for instance? I see there are two advertised here, The Imperial--everything's Imperial nowadays--with a night-porter and a lift--I detest lifts--never use 'em--and the Grand Central, family and commercial, electric light. I abominate commercials, but they know how to feed. Why the deuce can't these people advertise something worth knowing? Electric light--who wants to eat overdone steaks by electricity?" "But, my dear lady, why this sudden curiosity about Bursfield and its hotels?" "Because, my dear man, I'm going there, to-night; by the 7.12. Butts has just carried my portmanteau upstairs." "Your portmanteau?" "Yes; I don't believe in trunks and dress boxes--my things will bear folding, and Humphreys"--meaning her maid--"is already folding 'em. Man, don't stare. I'm going to have the time of my life at Bursfield in Glasson's absence. You saw Glasson depart? Well, he didn't tell; but you may pack me in another portmanteau if he's not posting off to Monte Carlo." "Well?"