omised to explain later, but coming home I
had forgotten to ask him. There had been the excitement about the
supposed accident to Diana, and my thoughts had clung to that.

Now I realized that there was only _one person_ who might have been at
St. George's with my secret connivance, whose presence there Sidney
Vandyke would furiously resent: Eagle March.

Kitty was looking at me curiously, almost appealingly, and I was vexed
with myself for blushing. "I do not know," I answered steadily. "I might
guess--but almost surely I should guess wrong. Tell me who, in all that
crowd, it was worth Sidney's while to make this fuss about."

"Well," said Kitty, who being far from brave is easily abashed, "I'm not
sure he _was_ inside the church, but anyhow he was _outside_, because I
saw him the instant before he seized the horses' heads. And then----"

"Seized the horses' heads? But who--who?"

"Captain March. Of course it was he who saved Diana and Major Vandyke.
At least I think he deserves so much credit, and Di would think it, too,
if she were left to herself. But Major Vandyke says the whole thing was
arranged; that it was Captain March who planned--to--to----"

"He's sure to say something horrible. But begin at the beginning!"

"I can't now, dear," said Kitty nervously. "Di and Sidney will be so
cross if I stay up here talking to you. I really must go down; but
you're sure to hear everything."

I didn't insist, for I could not keep her against her will; and besides,
it would be better to have the story from some one who could tell things
more clearly. Down I flew to find Tony, whom I could trust to have
commandeered some news for me by this time. Already the drawing-room was
crammed with perfumed people and too fragrant flowers, and a babel of
chatter. I should have had to knock fat old ladies and thin old
gentlemen about like ninepins to sort out from among bonneted and bald
pates the inconspicuous brown head I sought, and my search was checked
constantly by well-meaning creatures who pined to tell me how pretty the
wedding had been, or how much I had grown since they saw me last. Now
and then, however, I picked up a wisp of information.

"What a close shave there was of a tragedy! But all's well that ends
well," said Lady O'Harrel, a distant cousin of ours who had ignored the
connection until it advertised itself in Norfolk Street and Park Lane.
"Who was the man who seized the horses' heads when they bolted? I didn't