It was with a deep anxiety at her heart that Rhoda quickly made her own toilet, and hurried downstairs. Dinner was now usually a very lively affair, as Lady Sarah’s new high spirits seemed always at their highest when she was with her husband and Rhoda together. On this occasion, however, she was scarcely herself. She asked questions without waiting for the answers, and laughed without reason. And through it all Rhoda noticed with pain that the new affection she had just shown to her boy, whom she had kissed with real heartiness when she left him, was not present in her manner when she addressed her husband. Sir Robert felt that something was wrong, but evidently did not know what to make of the change in his wife. He asked her rather diffidently if she felt quite well, and was answered quite snappishly in the affirmative. After dinner Lady Sarah made an excuse of a slight headache to retire to her own rooms, and Rhoda, on the alert, also made an excuse, so that she might be on the watch for developments. She did not go upstairs, however, but slipping out of the house by the garden door, waited about in the shadow of the trees under the east wall, and kept her eye on the windows of Lady Sarah’s rooms. She could see that some one was flitting about between the three rooms, bedroom, dressing-room and boudoir. Then there was an interval, and Rhoda presently saw Lady Sarah, in her motor-coat, hat and veil, come quickly and stealthily out of the house, carrying her travelling bag in her hand. The girl could scarcely suppress an exclamation of horror. She remained, however, shivering and without uttering a sound, until Lady Sarah came close to her and put out her hand to open the side-gate which led into the road. As she did so, she uttered a soft whistle. And the sound was echoed from the other side of the wall. The key was in the lock, when Rhoda sprang forward and touched Lady Sarah on the hand. “Don’t go,” she whispered hoarsely. “Oh, Lady Sarah, think of your boy! Come back, come back!” Lady Sarah had sprung away from her, and Rhoda, commanding the door in the wall, stood erect, blocking the way through. “What do you mean? What do you want?” she hissed out fiercely. “I want you to consider what you’re doing. I know that Mr. Rotherfield is waiting outside: I know that his car is in one of the side roads.” “You are a spy,” cried Lady Sarah. “I couldn’t help myself. I caught sight of the car before dinner, and, and----” “And you lay in wait for me! I might have expected it!” “Could I do anything else? I’ve said nothing to anybody. No one but me has the least idea of anything being wrong.” “There’s nothing wrong.”