t,
to-morrow," running his eyes over his letters.

"Have you, old chap? What a beastly nuisance," answered Bayfield,
looking up. "We shall miss you no end."

Would he? Why on earth didn't the man get on with his correspondence,
thought Blachland, for the tension was getting upon his nerves. But the
other went chatting on--partly regrets over his own departure--partly
about some stock sale of which he had just had news.

"Hallo! Who's this from?" he said at last. "I don't know that writing
a hang. Well, it's soon settled," tearing the envelope open, with a
laugh.

But in a moment the laugh died. George Bayfield was grave enough now.
A whistle of amazement escaped him, and more than one smothered
exclamation of disgust. Blachland, without appearing to, watched him
narrowly. Would he never get to the end of that closely written sheet
and a half?

"Have you any idea what this is about?"

The tone was short. All the old cordiality seemed to have left it.

"Very much of an idea, Bayfield. I expected something of the kind, and
for that very reason, to be quite candid with you, I manoeuvred we
should get the post out here away from the house."

"I didn't think you'd have done that to us, Blachland. To think of
this--this person, under the same roof with--even shaking hands with--my
Lyn. Faugh! Good Heavens! man, you might have spared us this!"

"Wouldn't I--if it had been possible? But it was not. I give you my
word of honour I had no more idea of that woman's presence at Earle's,
or indeed in the neighbourhood, or even in this country, than you had
yourself. You'll do me the credit of believing that, won't you?"

"Why, yes, Blachland. Anything you give me your word for I believe
implicitly."

"Thanks. You are a true friend, Bayfield. You may believe another
thing--and that is that had I known of her presence in the
neighbourhood, I should have kept away from it. Why, she didn't even
know of mine either. Each was about as surprised as the other when we
met, yesterday morning. What could I do then, Bayfield? Raise a scene
on the spot, and expose her--and kick up a horrible scandal, with the
result of simply bespattering the air with mire, around the very one we
intend to keep from any such contact? No good purpose could be served
by acting otherwise than as I acted. Could it now?"

"No. I suppose not. In fact, I quite see the force of all you say.
Still, it's horrible, revolting."

"