ave only to sacrifice my character, and all my things. But I
am to retain Methven, my maid. That concession I have won from his
chivalry.'

'How do you mean?' asked Mrs. Malory.

'At seven he will get a telegram summoning him to Paris on urgent
business. He will leave in your station brougham in time to catch the
9.50 up train at Wilkington. Or, rather, so impatient is he, he will
leave half an hour too early, for fear of accidental delays. I and my
maid will accompany him. I have thought honesty the best policy, and
told the truth, like Bismarck, "and the same,"' said Mrs. Brown-Smith
hysterically, '"with intent to deceive." I have pointed out to him that
my best plan is to pretend to you that I am going to meet my husband, who
really arrives at Wilkington from Liverpool by the 9.17, though the
Vidame thinks that is an invention of mine. So, you see, I leave without
any secrecy, or fuss, or luggage, and, when my husband comes here, he
will find me flown, and will have to console himself with my luggage and
jewels. He--this Frenchified beast, I mean--has written a note for your
daughter, which he will give to her maid, and, of course, the maid will
hand it to _you_. So he will have burned his boats. And then you can
show it to Matilda, and so,' said Mrs. Brown-Smith, 'the miracle of
opening her eyes will be worked. Johnnie, my husband, and I will be
hungry when we return about half-past ten. And I think you had better
telegraph that there is whooping cough, or bubonic plague, or something
in the house, and put off your shooting party.'

'But that would be an untruth,' said Mrs. Malory.

'And what have I been acting for the last ten days?' asked Mrs. Brown-
Smith, rather tartly. 'You must settle your excuse with your
conscience.'

'The cook's mother really is ill,' said Mrs. Malory, 'and she wants
dreadfully to go and see her. That would do.'

'All things work together for good. The cook must have a telegram also,'
said Mrs. Brown-Smith.

The day, which had been extremely hot, clouded over. By five it was
raining: by six there was a deluge. At seven, Matilda and the Vidame
were evicted from their dusky window seat by the butler with a damp
telegraph envelope. The Vidame opened it, and handed it to Matilda. His
presence at Paris was instantly demanded. The Vidame was desolated, but
his absence could not be for more than five days. Bradshaw was hunted
for, and found: the 9.50 train was opportu