Folliot toyed a little with the jewelled head of her sunshade. Her
expression became almost coy.

"Oh, well!" she answered after a brief spell of indecision. "Perhaps it
is as well that you should know, Miss Bewery. Of course, when all this
sad trouble was made far worse by that second affair--the working-man's
death, you know, I said to my husband that really one must do something,
seeing that Dr. Ransford was so very, very obdurate and wouldn't speak.
And as money is nothing--at least as things go--to me or to Mr. Folliot,
I insisted that he should offer a thousand pounds reward to have the
thing cleared up. He's a generous and open-handed man, and he agreed
with me entirely, and put the thing in hand through his solicitors. And
nothing would please us more, my dear, than to have that thousand pounds
claimed! For of course, if there is to be--as I suppose there is--a
union between our families, it would be utterly impossible that any
cloud could rest on Dr. Ransford, even if he is only your guardian. My
son's future wife cannot, of course--"

Mary laid down her work again and for a full minute stared Mrs. Folliot
in the face.

"Mrs. Folliot!" she said at last. "Are you under the impression that I'm
thinking of marrying your son?"

"I think I've every good reason for believing it!" replied Mrs. Folliot.

"You've none!" retorted Mary, gathering up her work and moving towards
the door. "I've no more intention of marrying Mr. Sackville Bonham than
of eloping with the Bishop! The idea's too absurd to--even be thought
of!"

Five minutes later Mrs. Folliot, heightened in colour, had gone.
And presently Mary, glancing after her across the Close, saw Bryce
approaching the gate of the garden.

CHAPTER XXIII. THE UNEXPECTED

Mary's first instinct on seeing the approach of Pemberton Bryce, the one
man she least desired to see, was to retreat to the back of the house
and send the parlourmaid to the door to say her mistress was not at
home. But she had lately become aware of Bryce's curiously dogged
persistence in following up whatever he had in view, and she reflected
that if he were sent away then he would be sure to come back and come
back until he had got whatever it was that he wanted. And after a
moment's further consideration, she walked out of the front door and
confronted him resolutely in the garden.

"Dr. Ransford is away," she said with almost unnecessary brusqueness.
"He's away until evening."

"I