ch I haven't mentioned. You ought to have;
you perfectly well might have guessed it. But as you haven't, I'll
tell it to you. When I first heard of your coming to Ballymoy, I
didn't know that you were Miss King's uncle. I only found that out
yesterday."

"That makes things worse than ever," said the judge. "I was beginning
dimly to understand some of your actions before you told me that. Now
I'm utterly and completely at sea. Why you should have tried to stop
me coming to Ballymoy if you didn't know I was Miss King's uncle is
beyond me altogether."

"I really can't go into that," said Meldon. "You must understand it
perfectly well, and in any case I'm bound to respect Miss King's
confidence. I can't possibly repeat to you things she has said to me
in a strictly private way."

"Of course if my niece--but that puzzles me even more. She hasn't said
a word to me about any private understanding with you."

"She wouldn't," said Meldon, "and I daresay I ought not to have
mentioned that such a thing exists. However, in the end, of course,
you'll know all about it."

"In the end?"

"Yes. After the marriage. Shortly after."

"If she really is to be married," said the judge, "I wish she'd hurry
up about it. I hate these mysteries."

"You can't hate them more than I do," said Meldon, "and you can rely
upon me to bring things to their crisis, their preliminary crisis--the
actual marriage can't take place for a fortnight--as soon as possible."

"Do. By the preliminary crisis I suppose you mean the engagement."

"Certainly. I shall use every effort to bring that off this afternoon.
Now that I know you're as keen on it as I am myself, I think I may
pledge you my word that it will come off this afternoon. But, if so, I
must leave you now. Good-bye."

CHAPTER XXII.

It was nearly twelve o'clock when Meldon left Sir Gilbert Hawkesby. He
walked rapidly down to Ballymoy House, and seized his bicycle. Miss
King, who had been watching for him, ran out and invited him to stay
for luncheon. Meldon excused himself briefly on the plea of really
urgent business.

"But can't you spare us even an hour?" said Miss King persuasively.

Meldon sprang into the saddle. It was his custom to mount from the
pedal, and on this occasion the pedal came off.

"Now," said Miss King, "your bicycle is broken and you must stay."

"It's Doyle's bicycle," he said. "I wouldn't own a machine like this.
My temper would we