orn since his departure.
But, this fact notwithstanding, she had no intention of writing or
wiring to him at present. Still, it was nice to know he would come.

They reached the old country town, and found it crammed with market
folk. The whole place hummed with people. Ernestine's first view of the
market-place filled her with amazement. The lowing of cattle, the
bleating of sheep, and the yelling of men combined to make such a
confusion of sound that she felt bewildered, even awestruck.

Mrs. Perkiss went straight to the oldest inn in the place and put up the
cart. She was there to buy, not to sell.

Ernestine kept with her for the first hour, then, growing weary of the
hubbub, wandered away from the market to explore the old town. She sat
for a while in the churchyard, and there, to enliven her solitude,
re-read that letter of Rivington's. Was he really taking up art again to
please her? He had been very energetic. She wondered, smiling, how long
his energy would last.

Thus engaged the time passed quickly, and she presently awoke from a
deep reverie to find that the hour Mrs. Perkiss had appointed for lunch
at the inn was approaching. She rose, and began to make her way thither.

The street was crowded, and her progress was slow. A motor was threading
its way through the throng at a snail's pace. The persistence of its
horn attracted her attention. As it neared her she glanced at its
occupant.

The next moment she was shrinking back into a doorway, white to the
lips. The man in the car was Dinghra.

Across the crowded pavement his eyes sought hers, and the wicked triumph
in them turned her cold. He made no sign of recognition, and she seemed
as though petrified till the motor had slowly passed.

Then a great weakness came over her, and for a few seconds all
consciousness of her surroundings went from her. She remembered only
those evil eyes and the gloating satisfaction with which they had rested
upon her.

"Ain't you well, miss?" said a voice.

With a start she found a burly young farmer beside her. He looked down
at her with kindly concern.

"You take my arm," he said. "Which way do you want to go?"

With an effort she told him, and the next moment he was leading her
rapidly through the crowd.

They reached the inn, and he put her into the bar parlour and went out,
bellowing for Mrs. Perkiss, whom he knew.

When he finally emerged, after finding the miller's wife, a slim, dark
man was waiting on