nting challenge, while the train rushed on
through the meadows and woods of Sussex. It slowed down for the
Wivelsfield curve, and then gathered speed again for the last few miles
to Lewes. With gloomy eyes he saw Plumpton race-course flash by, and
he recalled the last meeting he had attended there, two years before
the war. Then they roared through Cooksbridge and Vane straightened
himself in his seat. In just about a minute he would come in sight of
Melton House, lying amongst the trees under the South Downs. And Vane
was in the condition when a fleeting glance of the house that sheltered
Joan was like a drink of water to a thirsty man. It came and went in a
second, and with a sigh that was almost a groan he leaned back and
stared with unseeing eyes at the high hills which flank the valley of
the Ouse, with their great white chalk pits, and rolling grass slopes.

He had determined to go to an hotel for the night, and next day to call
at Melton House. During the evening he would have to concoct some
sufficiently plausible tale to deceive the Suttons as to the real
reason for having come--but sufficient unto the evening was the worry
thereof. He walked slowly up the steep hill that led into the High
Street, and booked a room at the first inn he came to. Then he went
out again, and sauntered round aimlessly.

The town is not full of wild exhilaration, and Vane's previous
acquaintance with it had been formed on the two occasions when he had
attended race-meetings there. Moreover, it is very full of hills and
after a short while Vane returned to his hotel and sat down in the
smoking-room. It was unoccupied save for one man who appeared to be of
the genus commercial traveller, and Vane sank into a chair by the fire.
He picked up an evening paper and tried to read it, but in a very few
moments it dropped unheeded to the floor. . . .

"Know these parts well, sir?" the man opposite him suddenly broke the
silence.

"Hardly at all," returned Vane shortly. He was in no mood for
conversation.

"Sleepy old town," went on the other; "but having all these German
prisoners has waked it up a bit."

Vane sat up suddenly. "Oh! have they got prisoners here?" The excuse
he had been looking for seemed to be to hand.

"Lots. They used to have conscientious objectors--but they couldn't
stand them. . . ." He rattled on affably, but Vane paid no heed. He
was busy trying to think under what possible pretext he could have