acles higher on her
brows and examined it with her clear eyes.

"This," she said "is going to be a treat. The man cannot possibly have
guessed that the children are in this neighbourhood. You haven't
enlightened him, I hope?"

"Certainly not," Mr. Chichester answered indignantly.

"Well, you said a moment since that you'd been infernally stupid, and I
don't yet know what form it took."

"I let him know what I'd discovered--that he had been pumping Matters
for Sir Miles's address."

"There is no harm in that. He can have the address from me as soon as
he likes."

"But surely you see through his game? He has tracked out the boy's
parentage, and he's out after blackmail."

"To be sure he is; and, what's more, he's going to have a run for his
money. What on earth is the matter outside?"

For a noise of furious barking had broken out suddenly, and, as she
spoke, there mingled with it a sound very like a human scream.

Miss Sally hurried out to the hall, the parson close at her heels.
They had scarcely crossed the threshold when Doctor Glasson staggered by
them like a maniac, with Tryphosa hanging on to his clerical skirts and
Tryphena in full cry behind. Butts brought up the rear of the chase,
vainly shouting to call them off.

"Down, Tryphosa!" Miss Sally ran in, planted a well-directed kick on the
mastiff's ribs, caught her by the scruff of the neck and banged her
ears. "Back, you brutes!"

Catching a dog-whip down from the rack, she lashed and drove them
yelping; while Glasson flung himself on a couch and lay panting, with a
sickly yellow face and a hand pressed to his heart.

"Oh, ma'am, your lady dogs!"

"'Bitches' in the country, Doctor Glasson. I must apologise for them.
Butts, bring some brandy and water to the drawing-room. . . . Not
bitten, I hope? If the skin's broken we had better cauterise."

Miss Sally confessed afterwards that she would have enjoyed operating on
the man with a red-hot poker: "and I'd have used the biggest poker in
the house." But Doctor Glasson arose, felt himself, and announced that
it was unnecessary.

"Mr. Chichester tells me you wish for Sir Miles Chandon's address.
He was, until a couple of days ago, at the Grand Hotel, Monte Carlo, and
I have no doubt is there yet."

Doctor Glasson's face fell somewhat.

"I thank you," he murmured. "It is a long distance."

"A letter will reach him in less than two days."

"Yes," said Glasson, and said no more.

"But