Presty consulted her watch.

"Your husband is no longer in London," she announced; "he has begun his
journey home. Give me the railway guide, and I'll tell you when he will
be here tomorrow. You may trust me, Catherine, to make no mistakes. Mr.
Presty's wonderful knowledge of figures has been of the greatest use to
me in later life. Thanks to his instructions, I am the only person in
the house who can grapple with the intricacies of our railway system.
Your poor father, Mr. Norman, could never understand time-tables and
never attempted to conceal his deficiencies. He had none of the vanity
(harmless vanity, perhaps) which led poor Mr. Presty to express positive
opinions on matters of which he knew nothing, such as pictures and
music. What do you want, Malcolm?"

The servant to whom this question was addressed answered: "A telegram,
ma'am, for the mistress."

Mrs. Linley recoiled from the message when the man offered it to her.
Not usually a very demonstrative person, the feeling of alarm which had
seized on her only expressed itself in a sudden change of color. "An
accident!" she said faintly. "An accident on the railway!"

Mrs. Presty opened the telegram.

"If you had been the wife of a Cabinet Minister," she said to her
daughter, "you would have been too well used to telegrams to let them
frighten you. Mr. Presty (who received his telegrams at his office) was
not quite just to the memory of my first husband. He used to blame Mr.
Norman for letting me see his telegrams. But Mr. Presty's nature had
all the poetry in which Mr. Norman's nature was deficient. He saw the
angelic side of women--and thought telegrams and business, and all that
sort of thing, unworthy of our mission. I don't exactly understand what
our mission is--"

"Mamma! mamma! is Herbert hurt?"

"Stuff and nonsense! Nobody is hurt; there has been no accident."

"They why does he telegraph to me?"

Hitherto, Mrs. Presty had only looked at the message. She now read it
through attentively to the end. Her face assumed an expression of stern
distrust. She shook her head.

"Read it yourself," she answered; "and remember what I told you, when
you trusted your husband to find a governess for my grandchild. I said:
'You do not know men as I do.' I hope you may not live to repent it."

Mrs. Linley was too fond of her husband to let this pass. "Why shouldn't
I trust him?" she asked. "He was going to London on business--and it was
an excellent opportuni