od up.

"Jack Kirkby, so it is! How do, Jack? And Jenny?

"That's who we are," said Jenny. "Are you sure you're quite recovered?"

"Recovered! Eh--!" (He emitted a short laugh.) "Sit down. There's chairs
somewhere."

Jack hooked out a couple that were leaning folded against the low wall
of yew beneath the window and set them down.

"Have a cigar, Jack?"

"No, thanks."

They were on good terms--these two. Jack shot really well, and was smart
and deferential. Lord Talgarth asked no more than this from a young man.

"Well--what's the matter?"

Jack left it thoughtfully for Jenny to open the campaign. She did so
very adroitly.

"Mr. Jack came over to see me," she said, "and I thought I couldn't
entertain him better than by bringing him up to see you. You haven't
such a thing as a cigarette, Lord Talgarth?"

He felt about in his pockets, drew out a case and pushed it across the
table.

"Thanks," said Jenny; and then, without the faintest change of tone:
"We've some news of Frank at last."

"Frank, eh? Have you? And what's the young cub at, now?"

"He's in trouble, as usual, poor boy!" remarked Jenny, genially. "He's
very well, thank you, and sends you his love."

Lord Talgarth cast her a pregnant glance.

"Well, if he didn't, I'm sure he meant to," went on Jenny; "but I
expect he forgot. You see, he's been in prison."

The old man jerked such a face at her, that even her nerve failed for an
instant. Jack saw her put her cigarette up to her mouth with a hand that
shook ever so slightly. And yet before the other could say one word she
recovered herself.

"Please let me say it right out to the end first," she said. "No; please
don't interrupt! Mr. Jack, give me the letter ... oh! I've got it." (She
drew it out and began to unfold it, talking all the while with
astonishing smoothness and self-command.) "And I'll read you all the
important part. It's written to Mr. Kirkby. He got it this morning and
very kindly brought it straight over here at once."

Jack was watching like a terrier. On the one side he saw emotions so
furious and so conflicting that they could find no expression, and on
the other a restraint and a personality so complete and so compelling
that they simply held the field and permitted no outburst. Her voice was
cool and high and natural. Then he noticed her flick a glance at
himself, sideways, and yet perfectly intelligible. He stood up.

"Yes, do just take a stroll, Mr. Kirkby.... Come