night the
devil had gone out of him for a season? Yet Val knew from
painful experience that Bernard's devil was tenacious and wiry,
not soon tired.

"They might," he said cautiously, "but I shouldn't think they
will. Laura knows you, old fellow. She'll be prepared for a
terrific wigging, and she'll want to get home and get it over."
A dim gleam of mirth relieved Val's mind a trifle: when the devil
of jealousy was in possession he always cast out Bernard's sense
of humour, a subordinate imp at the best of times and not of a
healthy breed. "Besides, there's Isabel to consider. She'll be
in a great state of mind, poor child, though it probably isn't in
the least her fault. By the bye, if there's no more I can do for
you, I ought to go home and see after Jim. He expressed his
intention of sitting up for Isabel, and I only wonder he hasn't
been down here before now. Probably he went to sleep over his
Church Times, or else buried himself in some venerable volume of
patristic literature and forgot about her. But when Fanny gets
down he'll be tearing his hair."

"Go by all means," said Bernard. "You must be fagged out, Val;
have you been at the piano all these hours? How you spoil me,
you and Laura! Get some breakfast, lie down for a nap, and after
that you can go on to Countisford and meet them in the car."

"All right!" In face of Bernard's thoughtful and practical good
humour Val's suspicions had faded. "Shall I come back or will
you send the car up for me?" Neither he nor Clowes saw anything
unusual in these demands on his time and energy: it was
understood that the duties of the agency comprised doing anything
Bernard wanted done at any hour of day or night.

"I'll send her up. Stop a bit." Clowes knit his brows and looked
down, evidently deep in thought. "Yes, that's the ticket. You
take Isabel home and send Lawrence and Laura on alone. Drop them
at the lodge before you drive her up. She'll be tired out and
it's a good step up the hill. And you must apologize for me to
your father for giving him so much anxiety. Lawrence must have
been abominably careless to let them lose their train: they ought
to have had half an hour to spare."

"He is casual."

"Oh very: thinks of nothing but himself. Pity you and he can't
strike a balance! Good-bye. Mind you take your sister straight
home and apologize to your father for Hyde's antics. Say I'm
sorry, very sorry to mix her up in such a pickle, and I w