Darrell pondered.  None of the well-known publishers, of course, would look at it.  But there were plenty of people who would—­and give Lady Kitty a large sum of money for it, too.

What part, however, could he—­Darrell—­play in such a transaction?

“I am bound to warn you,” he said, at last, looking up, “that your husband will probably strongly disapprove this book, and that it may do him harm.”

Kitty bit her lip.

“But if I tell nobody who wrote it—­and you tell nobody?”

“Ashe would know at once.  Everybody would know.”

“William would know,” his companion admitted, unwillingly.  “But I don’t see why anybody else should.  You see, I’ve put myself in—­I’ve said the most shocking things!”

Darrell replied that she would not find that device of much service to her.

“However—­I can no doubt get an opinion for you.”

Kitty, all delight, thanked him profusely.

“You shall have the whole of it before you go—­Friday, isn’t it?” she said, eagerly gathering it up.

Darrell was certainly conscious of no desire to burden himself with the horrid thing.  But he was rarely able to refuse the request of a pretty and fashionable woman, and it flattered his conceit to be the sole recipient of what might very well turn out to be a political secret of some importance.  Not that he meant to lay himself open to any just reproach whatever in the matter.  He would show it to some fitting person—­to pacify Lady Kitty—­write a letter of strong protest to her afterwards—­and wash his hands of it.  What might happen then was not his business.

Meanwhile his inner mind was full of an acrid debate which turned entirely upon his interview with Ashe of the day before.  No doubt, as an old friend, aware of Lady Kitty’s excitable character, he might have felt it his duty to go straight to Ashe, coute que coute, and warn him of what was going on.  But what encouragement had been given him to play so Quixotic a part?  Why should he take any particular thought for Ashe’s domestic peace, or Ashe’s public place?  What consideration had Ashe shown for him?  “Tu l’as voulu, Georges Dandin!”

So it ended in his promising to take the MS. to London with him, and let Lady Kitty know the result of his inquiries.  Kitty’s dancing step as they returned to the house betrayed the height of her spirits.

* * * * *

A rumor flew round the house towards the middle of the day that Harry, the little heir, was worse.  Kitty did not appear at luncheon, and the doctor was sent for.  Before he came, it was known only to Margaret French that Kitty had escaped by herself from the house and could not be found.  Ashe and Lady Tranmore saw the doctor, who prescribed, and would not admit that there was any cause for alarm.  The heat had tried the child, and Lady Kitty—­he looked round the nursery for her in some perplexity—­might be quite reassured.