Beatrice was equally puzzled. Alpenny had not been away from The Camp all the afternoon, yet had contrived to send a telegram, and prepay the reply. CHAPTER IV SEEN IN THE LIGHTNING It was truly a mystery. So far as Beatrice knew, there were but two ways of getting out of The Camp--by the large gate and the smaller one. Yet she in the parlour-carriage, facing Alpenny's counting-house, had not seen him emerge; nor had Durban, busy in the kitchen, the door of which commanded a view of the postern, beheld his master depart. The telegraph office was at the railway station three miles away, and there was no one in The Camp save Durban and his young mistress to send with a wire. Yet the wire had been sent, and the reply had been received. Beatrice ventured an explanation. "Perhaps my father sent the telegram yesterday." "No, missy. I took none, and master did not leave the place. No telegram has been sent from here for the last month." "Is there a third way out, Durban?" "Not that I know of, missy, and yet----" What Durban would have said in the way of explanation it is impossible to say, for at this moment the querulous voice of Alpenny was heard calling snappishly. Durban hastened to the door of the counting-house, and it was opened so that he could speak with his master. But he was not admitted within. Beatrice retired to her bedroom-carriage, which was near the parlour, and had only been there a few minutes when Durban came over with a crest-fallen face. "We must put off going to Convent Grange, missy," said he rapidly; "master wishes me to go to town. He is writing a letter which I have to take up at once. I shall catch the six train." "Very well, Durban. We can wait." The servant looked and hesitated, but before he could speak again Mr. Alpenny interrupted. Appearing at the door of his dungeon he waved a letter. "Come at once!" he cried; "don't lose time. What do you mean by chattering there?" Durban gave Beatrice a significant look and hastened away. In another ten minutes he had left The Camp by the great gates and was on his way to the railway station. Alpenny saw him off the premises and then crossed over to his stepdaughter. "What were you saying to Durban?" he asked suspiciously. "You mean what was Durban saying to me?" she replied quietly; "you can surely guess. He was saying that you wished him to go to town." "There was no need of him to tell you my business," grumbled the miser, looking ill-tempered. "What are you doing this evening?" Had he any suspicions of her intention? Beatrice thought not. The question was put in a snarling way, and simply--as she judged--to show his authority. "I intend to read," she answered simply, "and perhaps I shall take a walk"--in the grounds, she ostensibly meant. "Better not," warned the usurer, looking up. "Clouds are gathering. I am sure there will be a storm."