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Cynthia was waiting for me, and greeted me eagerly with:

I say! There's been the most awful row! I've got it all out of Dorcas."

What kind of a row?"

Between Aunt Emily and him. I do hope she's found him out at last!"

Was Dorcas there, then?"

Of course not. She 'happened to be near the door'. It was a real old bust-up.

I do wish I knew what it was all about."

I thought of Mrs. Raikes's gipsy face, and Evelyn Howard's warnings, but

wisely decided to hold my peace, whilst Cynthia exhausted every possible

hypothesis, and cheerfully hoped, "Aunt Emily will send him away, and will

never speak to him again."

I was anxious to get hold of John, but he was nowhere to be seen. Evidently

something very momentous had occurred that afternoon. I tried to forget the

few words I had overheard; but, do what I would, I could not dismiss them

altogether from my mind. What was Mary Cavendish's concern in the

matter?

Mr. Inglethorp was in the drawing-room when I came down to supper. His

face was impassive as ever, and the strange unreality of the man struck me

afresh.

Mrs. Inglethorp came down last. She still looked agitated, and during the

meal there was a somewhat constrained silence. Inglethorp was unusually

quiet. As a rule, he surrounded his wife with little attentions, placing a

cushion at her back, and altogether playing the part of the devoted

husband. Immediately after supper, Mrs. Inglethorp retired to her boudoir

again.

Send my coffee in here, Mary," she called. "I've just five minutes to catch

the post."

Cynthia and I went and sat by the open window in the drawing-room. Mary

Cavendish brought our coffee to us. She seemed excited.

Do you young people want lights, or do you enjoy the twilight?" she asked.

The Mysterious Affair at Styles