hey can't all have been swallowed up by an earthquake!
Of course fire or a railway smash is on the cards, but the less
thrilling explanation is more probable, don't you think, old
man?"

"Missed the last train and were obliged to stay in town?"

"And a rotten time they'll have of it. It's no joke, trying to
get rooms in a London hotel when you've ladies with you and no
luggage."

"You think Laura would let Hyde take her to an hotel?"

"Well, Berns, what else are they to do?" said Val impatiently.
"They can't very well sit in a Waterloo waitingroom!"

"No, no," said Clowes. "Much better pass the night at an hotel.
Is that what you call a rotten time? If I were Lawrence I should
call it a jolly one."

Val turned round from the window. "If I were Hyde," he said
stiffly, "I should take the ladies to some decent place and go to
a club myself. You might give your cousin credit for common
sense if not for common decency! You seem to forget the
existence of Isabel."

"Oh, all right," said Bernard after a moment. "I was only
joking. No offence to your sister, Val, I'm sure Laura will look
after her all right. But it is a bit awkward in a gossippy hole
like Chilmark. When does the next train get in?"

No man knows offhand the trains that leave London in the small
hours, but Val hunted up a timetable--its date of eighteen
mouths ago a pregnant commentary on life at Wanhope--and came
back with the information that if they left at seven-fifteen they
could be at Countisford by ten. "Too late to keep it quiet," he
owned. "The servants are a nuisance. But thank heaven Isabel's
with them."

"Thank heaven indeed," Bernard assented. "Not that I care two
straws for gossip myself, but Laura would hate to be talked
about. Well, well! Here's a pretty kettle of fish. How would
it be if you were to meet them at the station? I suppose they're
safe to come by that train? Or will they wait for a second one?
Getting up early is not Laura's strong point at the best of
times, and she'll be extra tired after the varied excitements of
the night."

Val examined him narrowly. His manner was natural if a trifle
subdued; the unhealthy glow had died down and his black eyes were
frank and clear. Nevertheless Val was not at ease, this natural
way of taking the mishap was for Bernard Clowes so unnatural and
extraordinary: if he had stormed and sworn Val would have felt
more tranquil. But perhaps after the fireworks of last