nd," she responded sweetly, contriving
that the words and tone should be distinctly audible to Lyn, who,
already seated in the spider, could not possibly avoid hearing them.
But had Hermia only known it the shaft had fallen harmless.

"Did you hear that, father?" Lyn began, as they drove off. "That woman
actually called Mr Blachland by his Christian name?"

Bayfield burst out laughing. Then after a precautionary look behind--

"I expect she reckons him her brother-in-law--no, cousin-in-law
already," he said. "Young West seems to have brought things to a head
in that quarter. She and Blachland had a long talk together this
morning. I expect they were sort of arranging family matters."

"Very likely. But I don't think I ever saw any woman I detested so
thoroughly and instinctively. Every time I see her I dislike her more."

"Hallo, little one! You're quite fierce on the subject," laughed her
father. "Why do you hate her so? Has she been uncivil to my little
girlie?"

"No, quite the contrary. But she's utterly false somehow. I wouldn't
believe any statement that woman made--even if she were dying. But what
a silly boy that young West must be. Why, she's years older than
himself!"

Bayfield laughed again, but he more than half thought Lyn's estimate was
very likely a true one.

Some little way behind, the two men had pulled their horses into a walk.

"Steer ahead," said Percival doggedly. "Let's get it over."

"Yes. I think we might now. So you haven't found out anything more
about--Mrs Fenham, beyond what you told me last night?"

"No. Her husband died about a year ago. That was up-country. I wonder
you never ran against him, Hilary."

"But I know him intimately, only--he isn't her husband."

"The deuce! But he's dead."

"No, he isn't. He's very much alive and kicking--and his name isn't
Fenham either, never was."

"Well, what is it then?" and his voice was hard and desperate.

"Hilary Blachland."

"Eh?"

It was all he could say. He could only stare. He seemed to be stricken
speechless with the shock, utterly speechless.

"I'm very sorry for you, Percy, very sorry. But you'll thank me for it
bye-and-bye," went on Blachland concernedly. "That woman has told you a
tissue of lies. I can account for her time for nearly half a dozen
years, for the simple reason that it has been spent with me--the last
two years of it in Mashunaland. She left me though, not much more than
half