Suddenly tears rose in Pamela's eyes. She tried hard to blink them away unseen; but they welled bigger and bigger until they overflowed and rolled down her white cheeks. Mrs Carruthers slipped an arm about her waist. "You poor dear!" she said. "It's stupid of me," murmured Pamela apologetically. "But I'm so worried. I feel all unstrung. It seems so odd for Blanche to have gone away like that. It's so difficult to explain." "I shouldn't attempt explanations," Mrs Carruthers advised. "When do you expect Mr Arnott home?" she asked. Again the distressing change of colour showed in Pamela's face, and again her embarrassed, reluctant admission that she did not know when to expect him puzzled her listener anew. The whole business was incomprehensible. Mrs Carruthers' knowledge of the Arnott's affairs was greater than Pamela realised. Being fairly astute, her perception had led her to detect more of the breach than was obvious to the ordinary observer. Had she not already suspected it, Pamela's manner would have convinced her that the governess' flight was not alone responsible for her present distress. A more personal trouble could alone account for the unhinged state of her mind. To avoid adding to her embarrassment, she left the subject with the reflection that dwelling on annoyances merely aggravated them, and proposed joining the children. But Pamela's face haunted her for the rest of the day. Despite a strong disinclination to allow the suspicion, the belief that Arnott's absence and the girl's flight were in some way connected, and not merely coincident, as his wife had so lamely endeavoured to convey, was difficult to banish. Pamela's very anxiety to disprove the connection suggested to the unbiassed mind that the connection was there. Mrs Carruthers did not like Arnott. She threw that fact into the balance of her judgment, and resolved to give him the benefit of the doubt. CHAPTER NINETEEN. Desire to be perfectly fair in her judgment of Arnott did not prevent Mrs Carruthers from imparting her views to her husband, when discussing with him that evening the mysterious happenings next door. She first acquainted him with the bare details, and asked for his opinion; since he had no opinion to offer she proceeded to unfold hers. Carruthers was astounded; he was also, to his wife's amazement, annoyed with her. "Perhaps you won't be so ready to recommend people in future," he remarked. "This is what comes of interfering in other people's concerns." "Don't be so unreasonable," she expostulated. "The girl appeared to be all right. She was with the Smiths for years." "Smith's dead, you see," he answered. Mrs Carruthers stared. "You think she was that sort of girl?" she asked. "Well, I don't know," he returned, and looked a trifle sheepish. "But Arnott got her talked about pretty badly at Muizenberg. A fellow who was there at the same time told me it was scandalous the way he went on."