and, at the eleventh hour, the conspiracy would be
foiled. If, on the other hand, the American's fatal advice was followed,
the next morning's post might bring a letter from Jervy to Mrs.
Farnaby--with this disastrous result. At the first words spoken by
Amelius, she would put an end to all further interest in the subject on
his part, by telling him that the lost girl had been found, and found by
another person.

Rufus pointed to the writing-materials on a side table, which he had
himself used earlier in the day. The needful excuse was, unhappily,
quite easy to find. A misunderstanding with his landlady had obliged
Amelius to leave his lodgings at an hour's notice, and had occupied him
in trying to find a new residence for the rest of the day. The note was
written. Rufus, who was nearest to the bell, stretched out his hand to
ring for the messenger. Amelius suddenly stopped him.

"She doesn't like me to disappoint her," he said. "I needn't stay
long--I might get there and back in half an hour, in a fast cab."

His conscience was not quite easy. The sense of having forgotten
Regina--no matter how naturally and excusably--oppressed him with a
feeling of self-reproach. Rufus raised no objection; the hesitation of
Amelius was unquestionably creditable to him. "If you must do it, my
son," he said, "do it right away--and we'll wait for you."

Amelius took up his hat. The door opened as he approached it, and Mrs.
Payson entered the room, leading Simple Sally by the hand.

"We are all going together," said the genial old lady, "to see my large
family of daughters at the Home. We can have our talk in the carriage.
It's an hour's drive from this place--and I must be back again to dinner
at half-past seven."

Amelius and Rufus looked at each other. Amelius thought of pleading an
engagement, and asking to be excused. Under the circumstances, it was
assuredly not a very gracious thing to do. Before he could make up his
mind, one way or the other, Sally stole to his side, and put her hand
on his arm. Mrs. Payson had done wonders in conquering the girl's
inveterate distrust of strangers, and, to a certain extent at least,
winning her confidence. But no early influence could shake Sally's
dog-like devotion to Amelius. Her jealous instinct discovered something
suspicious in his sudden silence. "You must go with us," she said, "I
won't go without you."

"Certainly not," Mrs. Payson added; "I promised her that, of course,
beforeha