She took off her motor-bonnet and threw it on the sofa, running her hands through her bright hair, and rubbing her cheeks, which were a little cold. “Not Dick?...” Dudley looked up from his book peremptorily. “Who did bring you?” Hal took her seat at the table. “Well, you see, we had a slight accident. We had just stopped to examine the steering gear, when another car came round a curve and crashed into us. Dick’s car was damaged, and...” she reached across for the salad, and helped herself with as unconcerned an air as she could muster... “Oh!... onions!... how scrumptious!... Mrs. White always remembers my plebeian tastes, but not my patrician ones.” “Well!” he suggested coldly. “Dick’s car was damaged, and—” “Dick had to stay and nurse it.” “Then did you come home by train?” “There was no train. There was nothing else.” “Nothing else than what?” “Nothing but the car that run into us, or going to an inn for the night with Dick. I was afraid you wouldn’t like that,” with a mischievous gleam. “My likes and dislikes are not, apparently, of the smallest moment to you, or you would not have been motoring late on Sunday at all.” “Dick can’t go other days.” “Who was in this other car?” “A man.” Again he glanced up quickly. “Any one else?” “No. His chauffeur is down with ‘flu’.” “Was it some one you knew, then?” “No. He told me on the way in.” “Am I to gather that you returned to London alone, in a motor-car, with a perfect stranger?” “I’m afraid you are.” “Why didn’t Dick come with you? Surely if he takes you out for the day he might at least see you safely home. I never heard of such proceedings in my life. The man might have been a positive blackguard. Had you any idea who he was?” “No, none; but what’s the use of making a fuss! It’s all right now, and I’m safely at home; which is surely better than being in some weird village all night, and you wondering what on earth had become of me.” “That is not the question. It’s the whole circumstance from beginning to end. I consider Dick’s behaviour most reprehensible.” “He couldn’t leave his car alone there in the middle of a Kentish high road. He had to stay somewhere near.” “I think he should have considered you of more importance than the car. To let you return alone, at that hour, with a perfect stranger, is the most unheard of proceeding. I shall certainly tell Dick what I think of him.” “It wasn’t Dick’s fault,” loyally. “I just took the matter into my own hands and came. Dick had nothing to do with it. In fact, I insisted upon his remaining behind.” “Oh, of course you would. You only seem to be happy when you are flying in the face of some convention or other. But Dick is older than you, and he knows my views on these matters. He owed it to me to see you safely home.” “But since I am safely home!...” obstinately. “You very well might not have been. What the stranger himself must think of you I don’t know. Have you any idea who he was?” “Yes. Sir Edwin Crathie?”