won't be long. He'll be back to tea in a
minute or two: the clock's just struck four," she said; and she drew
aside for him to enter.

The duke stared at her angel face with gloomy thoughtfulness for nearly
a minute. She found it somewhat discomfitting. Then he said gloomily:

"Very well: I'll come in and wait."

He walked with a determined air down the passage into the sitting-room.

Pollyooly ran up to the attic to assure herself that the Lump was not
in mischief--it was the last thing in the world that placid, but
red-headed cherub was likely to get into; none the less she was always
making sure of it. Then she came down to the kitchen, and set about
cutting thin bread and butter for two persons.

As she cut it she wondered uneasily what had brought the duke to the
King's Bench Walk. If there was one person in the world with regard to
whom she did not enjoy a clear conscience, it was the duke.

Had he come for the reason:

(1) That she had helped the duchess in the original evasion of his
daughter?

(2) That she had spent a fortnight at Ricksborough Court as his
daughter?

(3) Or had he discovered that she had helped the duchess in the second
evasion of Lady Marion?

(4) Had Mr. Wilkinson revealed how she had tricked him and the
detective?

Truly there were reasons why she should be afflicted by an uneasy
conscience with regard to the duke. It was no wonder that his gloomy
stare had made her uncomfortable. She tried to reassure herself by the
consideration that if he had discovered anything, he would surely have
been far grumpier with her; he would never have confined himself to a
gloomy stare.

She had just finished cutting the bread and butter when the latchkey of
the Honourable John Ruffin grated in the keyhole.

She stepped to the kitchen door; and as he entered she said:

"Please, sir, the duke's here."

The Honourable John Ruffin showed no surprise; he only said:

"Ah, he must be wanting me to do something for him. I told you that he
would warm to me when he did."

"Yes, sir. But, please sir, he doesn't look very warm yet," said
Pollyooly doubtfully.

"He never does. It runs in the family--the Osterley chill. Bring us
some tea," said the Honourable John Ruffin lightly; and he went down
the passage.

He came into the sitting-room briskly, and found the duke sitting in an
easy chair, with his silk hat thrust well back on his head, in a
fashion which gave him a far from ducal,