As the two men crossed the hall the drawing-room door opened and Miss Morriston came out.

“Is my brother coming?” she asked.

“He will be down soon,” Gifford answered in as casual a tone as he could assume.

The girl seemed struck by the gravity of their faces as she glanced from one to the other.  “I hope nothing is wrong,” she observed, with just a shade of apprehension.

There was a momentary pause as each man, hesitating between a direct falsehood, the truth, and a plausible excuse, rather waited for the other to speak.

Gifford answered.  “No, nothing that you need worry about, Miss Morriston.  Your brother will tell you later on.”

But the hesitation seemed to have aroused the girl’s suspicions.  “Do tell me now,” she said, with just a tremor of anxiety underlying the characteristic coldness of her tone.  “Unless,” she added, “it is something not exactly proper for me to hear.”

Kelson quickly availed himself of the loophole she gave him.  “You had better wait and hear it from Dick,” he said, suggesting a move towards the drawing-room.  “In the meantime there is nothing you need be alarmed about.”

“It all sounds very mysterious,” Miss Morriston returned, her apprehension scarcely hidden by a forced smile.  “I must go and ask Dick—­”

As she turned towards the passage leading to the tower Kelson sprang forward and intercepted her.  “No, no, Miss Morriston,” he remonstrated with a prohibiting gesture, “don’t go up there now.  Take my word for it you had better not.  Dick will be down directly to explain what is wrong.”

For a few moments her eyes rested on him searchingly.

“Very well,” she said at length.  “If you say I ought not to go, I won’t.  But you don’t lessen my anxiety to know what has happened.”

“There is no particular cause for anxiety on your part,” Kelson said reassuringly.

She had turned and now led the way to the drawing-room.  As they entered they were received by expectant looks.

“Well, is the mystery solved?” young Tredworth inquired.

Kelson gave him a silencing look.  “You’ll hear all about it in good time,” he replied between lightness and gravity.

Piercy rose to take his leave.

“Oh, you must not go yet,” Miss Morriston protested.  “They are just bringing tea.”

“But I fear I may be in the way if there is anything—­” he urged.

“Oh, no,” his hostess insisted.  “I don’t know of anything wrong.  At least neither Captain Kelson nor Mr. Gifford will admit anything.  You must have tea before your long drive.”

The subject of the mystery in the tower was tacitly dropped, perhaps from a vague feeling that it was best not alluded to, at any rate by the ladies, and the conversation flowed, with more or less effort, on ordinary local topics.  Tea over, Piercy took his leave.

“You must come again, Mr. Piercy, while you are in this part of the county,” Miss Morriston said graciously, “when you shall have no episodes of lost keys to hinder your researches.  My brother shall write to you.”