e Armenian atrocities. But there,
there will be enough to give this matter publicity. I wonder what lies
at the bottom of it. Of course some plausible excuses will be given to
the local reporters--Miss Castlemaine ill, or Mr. Leicester called to
Abyssinia; but there's some tragedy at the back of this, as sure as my
name's Arthur Winfield. Poor old Leicester, he looks death-stricken."

The carriage drew up at the door of The Beeches, and Winfield looked
out. No one was to be seen. There were no signs that anything of
importance had happened, or would happen. It might have been an empty
house, for all the signs of life that were visible. As for suggestions
of a wedding, they were nowhere apparent. The springtime had not come,
but the day was warm, and an air of restfulness seemed to reign over the
grounds. The hall door was closed.

Leicester leapt from the carriage, then he looked around in a dazed kind
of way. He noted the great beeches in the park, and the passing of a
distant train.

"Perhaps Miss Castlemaine is ill," said Winfield, "or it may be that
something has happened to her father." He wanted to chase away the
ghastly look which rested on the other's face.

But Leicester seemed to take no heed; rather he appeared to be trying to
realise the situation.

"Let me see, Winfield," he said. "I want to understand. Put me right if
I am in the wrong. To-day is the day arranged for my wedding-day. Two
hundred guests were invited. We were to be married up at the church
yonder, by that man Sackville. When we got there we found the place
locked, while you were informed that the caretaker had received orders
to keep the place locked, as there was to be no wedding. You were also
told that the telegraph clerk had sent away a lot of messages saying the
same thing as the man at the church told you. Is that right?"

"Yes, that's right. But Miss Castlemaine or her father may be ill, you
know. You did not look at your letters this morning, and thus were in
ignorance."

"I only wanted to be sure I had got hold of the facts," replied
Leicester. "I might be mistaken, you know. I feel all knocked about."

He went to the door and rang the bell. After what seemed ages to him, it
was opened by an old servant.

"Is Miss Castlemaine at home?"

The man hesitated a second, and then said:

"I believe so, sir."

"Is--is--she well?"

He did not seem to realise what he was saying, and yet he watched the
servant's face closely.