"But why couldn't he speak plainly to me? I see no reason why he should trick me in this manner," argued Audrey, distressed to find that Ralph had behaved in so underhanded a way. "I can't answer that question; and, in spite of my belief, I may be wrong in suspecting Mr. Shawe. However, it is easy to learn the truth. Take any letter which Mr. Shawe has written to you and place it before him, along with this anonymous one. Then see what he says, and report to me his reply." Audrey agreed to do this, and went away, much puzzled. The mystery of the case was affecting her nerves; and, now that Ralph seemed to be on the side of the enemy, she did not know which way to turn for advice. Perry Toat's intentions were good, but she seemed to be more clever at theorising than in finding real evidence likely to be of service for the elucidation of the problem. So far, what discoveries she had made--and these were but trifling--had resulted in nothing. Poor Audrey went home lamenting inwardly that the truth would never become known. However, there was only one thing to be done, and she did it. That is, she wrote a short note to Ralph asking him to call at the Camden Hill house. As Mrs. Mellop was now absent, and Sir Joseph would probably go out in the evening according to his usual custom, the coast would be clear for Ralph's visit. Besides, Audrey was weary of playing a secret game, and wished her lover to come forward boldly, and claim her even at the risk of Sir Joseph's displeasure. This would fall on her sooner or later, so it was just as well to get it over at once. She sent the letter by special messenger, and then went to lie down, as her head was aching. It was not to be wondered at, seeing what a shock she had sustained. Sir Joseph came home to express his satisfaction that Mrs. Mellop was out of the house, and ascribed his daughter's weary looks when she met him to regret for the loss of her friend. Audrey hastened to undeceive him. "I told you that I did not like Mrs. Mellop, papa, and I have not changed my opinion," she said very distinctly. "Well, my dear, you were right for once," replied Branwin, more amiably than usual. "She talked too much, and I began to feel that she was a nuisance. However, she has gone, and you needn't see her again." He paused, then abruptly made his announcement. "I intend to take you abroad." "I don't care to go, papa." "It doesn't matter what you care, you will do as you are told. A change of scene will do you good, as you look pale enough. I wish you to stop with Madame Lemain. She is a charming woman, and her husband is a very good friend of mine. You shall stay in Paris until you agree to obey me and marry Lord Anvers. Not a word. I have made up my mind." "And I have made up mine," cried the girl, greatly angered. "I refuse to marry Lord Anvers, and I have told him so." "Oh, that doesn't matter," Branwin assured her, coolly. "Anvers intends to propose again." "He will receive the same answer."