“At last, after one of the most wretched hours I ever spent—­and I have had more than my fair share of trouble—­we reached Haynthorpe, and on the outskirts of the village I asked Henshaw to set me down.  He stopped and looked at me curiously.

“‘Can’t you trust me to drive you to your home?’” he said insinuatingly.

“I replied that I preferred to get down where we were, and thanked him as warmly as I was able for all his services.

“‘You haven’t even told me your name,’ he protested, ’Mine is Clement Henshaw; I am staying at Flinton for hunting.’

“My answer was that he must not think me ungrateful, but that I would rather not tell him my name.  It could be of no consequence to him.

“‘I should like at least,’ he urged, ’to be allowed to drive over and report how your—­friend—­or was it your brother?—­is getting on.’

“I thanked him, made the best excuse I could for refusing, got down from the trap and hurried off through the dark village street, thankful to get away from those awkward questions.

“But if I thought I had finally got rid of Mr. Clement Henshaw I was, in my ignorance of the man, woefully mistaken.”

CHAPTER XXIV

HOW THE STORY ENDED

“When I reached the house luck unexpectedly favoured me.  My maid, whom I had been obliged to take, up to a certain point, into my confidence, and who, after the manner of her class, had acquired more than a sympathetic inkling of the way my people had been treating me, was waiting up on the look-out for my return, and quietly let me in.  She told me that no one but herself had any idea that I was out of the house; she had led them to believe that I had gone to bed early with a headache, which considering the stress of the past two days was plausible enough.  So I got back safely to my room which it had not seemed likely.  I should ever enter again, and next morning I could see that my over-night’s adventure was quite unsuspected.

“Naturally I anticipated a continuation of my stepmother’s attempts to force me into the marriage she had in view, and it rather puzzled me to understand why they seemed to be dropped.  The prospective bridegroom did not come to the house, and, stranger still, his name was not mentioned.  The explanation was soon forthcoming.  I did not see the newspapers just then, in fact I have an idea they were purposely kept away from me; but some people who were calling mentioned a big society-scandal coming on in the Law Courts in which this precious peer was desperately involved.  The relief with which I heard the news was unbounded considering all it meant for me, but my joy was turned to bitter grief by the news that Archie Jolliffe after lying unconscious for nearly a week had died of his injury.  I had contrived, during the days he lingered, to make secret inquiries as to his condition, and so knew that what would have seemed my heartless absence from his bedside had made no difference to him.”