“The fact that I was in the very act of losing
my temper. That’s all.”
Presently, when Louise was ascending the stairs with
Mrs. Bond, the girl asked:
“Why was Hugh so put out? What has Mrs.
Spicer been saying about him?”
“Only that he was a shirker during the war.
And, naturally, he is highly indignant.”
“He has a right to be. He did splendidly.
His record shows that,” declared the girl.
“I urged him to take no notice of the insults.
The Spicer woman has a very venomous tongue, my dear!
She is a vicar’s widow!”
And then they separated to their respective rooms.
Half an hour later Hugh Henfrey retired, but he found
sleep impossible; so he got up and sat at the open
window, gazing across to the dim outlines of the Surrey
hills, picturesque and undulating beneath the stars.
Who could have called him on the telephone? It
was a woman, but the voice might have been that of
a female telephone operator. Or yet—it
might have been that of Dorise! She knew that
he was at Shapley and looked it up in the telephone
directory. If that were the explanation, then
she certainly would not give away the secret of his
hiding-place.
Still he was haunted by a great dread the whole of
that night. The Sparrow had told him he had acted
foolishly in leaving his place of concealment in Kensington.
The Sparrow was his firm friend, and in future he
intended to obey the little old man’s orders
implicitly—as so many others did.
Next morning he came down to breakfast before the
ladies, and beside his plate he found a letter—addressed
to him openly. He had not received one addressed
in his real name for many months. Sight of it
caused his heart to bound in anxiety, but when he
read it he stood rooted to the spot.
Those lines which he read staggered him; the room
seemed to revolve, and he re-read them, scarce believing
his own eyes.
He realized in that instant that a great blow had
fallen upon him, and that all was now hopeless.
The sunshine of his life, had in that single instant,
been blotted out!
THE MAN WITH MANY NAMES
At the moment he had read the letter Mrs. Bond entered
the room.
“Hallo! You’re down early,”
she remarked. “And already had your letters,
I see! They don’t generally come so early.
The postman has to walk over from Puttenham.”
Then she took up her own and carelessly placed them
aside. They consisted mostly of circulars and
the accounts of Guildford tradesmen.
“Yes,” he said, “I was down early.
Lately I’ve acquired the habit of early rising.”
“An excellent habit in a young man,” she
laughed. “All men who achieve success are
early risers—so a Cabinet Minister said
the other day. And really, I believe it.”
“An hour in the early morning is worth three
after dinner. That is why Cabinet Ministers entertain
people at breakfast nowadays instead of at dinner.
In the morning the brain is fresh and active—a
fact recently discovered in our post-war days,”
Hugh said.
