Miss Jerrold was the first to break the silence. For, as she sat there stern and uncompromising, thinking of the duty she had voluntarily undertaken in answer to the appeal in her niece's eyes, which plainly asked that she would stand between father and lover in any encounter which might take place, she noted that she was still holding the bouquet of exotics she had borne to the church. A look of annoyance and disgust crossed her face. "Here, Mr Guest," she said sharply; "let down the window and throw these stupid flowers away." Guest started, and hesitated about taking the bouquet, but it was pressed into his hand, and he was about to lower the window when the lady interposed. "No; it would be waste," she cried. "Wait till we see some poor flower girl, and give it to her." The window on her right was let down sharply; then the flowers were snatched from her hand, and thrown out into the road by Sir Mark, who dragged the window up again with an angry frown. "As you please, Mark," said the lady quietly; "but the flowers might have been worth shillings to some poor soul." Silence reigned once more as the wheels spun round. Oxford Street was reached and crossed, the coachman turning down into and across Grosvenor Square, and then in and out, avoiding the main streets, till the last, when the busy thoroughfare was reached near its eastern end, and the carriage was drawn up at the narrow, court-like entrance to the quiet, secluded inn. Heads were turned directly, among those whose attention was taken being a barrister in wig and gown, just on his way to the court, where Mr Justice Blank was giving his attention to a divorce case. Miss Jerrold saw the legal gentleman's smile, and guessed its meaning. "How stupid!" she muttered. Then, as the footman came to the door: "Edward," she whispered hurriedly, "take that stupid satin bow from your breast. Tell Johnson, too." The favour disappeared as the door was thrown open, and Sir Mark sprang out to go straight on toward the inn; then, recollecting himself, he turned to help his sister alight. But he was too late. Percy Guest had performed that duty, and the lady took his arm and followed the admiral on into the calm silence of the old inn, past the porter's lodge, unnoticed by its occupant; then on across the square, under its shady plane trees, toward the fine old red brick mansion in the corner, with its iron lamp support and curious old link extinguishers on either side. The place was utterly deserted, and so still that the creaking of the admiral's new boots sounded loud and strange, while as they mounted the worn steps and entered the gloomy hall of the old place it struck chilly and damp, while the great stone staircase had a look that seemed forbidding and strange. "You have brought us here," said Sir Mark, stopping short at the foot of the stairs. "Go first."