The rickety old fly drew up with a jerk opposite the big front entrance, and Mrs. Dolman got out.  She was short in stature, but her business-like manner and attitude were unmistakable.  As soon as ever she set foot on the ground she turned to the man.

“Put the portmanteau down on the steps,” she said.  “You need not wait.  What is your fare?”

The fly-driver named a price, which she immediately disputed.

“Nonsense!” she said.  “Eight shillings for driving me from the station here?  Why, it is only five miles.”

“It is nearly seven, ma’am, and all uphill.  I really cannot do it for a penny less.”

“Then you are an impostor.  I shall complain of you.”

At this moment one of the stately footmen threw open the hall door and stared at Mrs. Dolman.

“Take my portmanteau in immediately, if you please,” she said, “and pray tell me if your master is at home.”

“Yes, madam,” was the grave reply.  “But Mr. Delaney is not seeing company at present.”

“He will see me,” said Mrs. Dolman.  “Have the goodness to tell him that his sister has arrived, and please also see that my luggage is taken to my room—­and oh, I say, wait one moment.  What is the fare from Beaminster to Delaney Manor?”

The grave-looking footman and the somewhat surly driver of the cab exchanged a quick glance.  Immediately afterwards the footman named eight shillings in a voice of authority.

“Preposterous!” said Mrs. Dolman, “but I suppose I must pay it, or, rather, you can pay it for me; I’ll settle with you afterwards.”

“Am I to acquaint my master that you have come, madam?”

“No; on second thoughts I should prefer to announce myself.  Where did you say Mr. Delaney was?”

“In his private study.”

“I know that room well.  See that my luggage is taken to a bedroom, and pay the driver.”

Mrs. Dolman entered the old house briskly.  It felt quiet, remarkably quiet, seeing that there was a large staff of servants and four vigorous, healthy children to occupy it.

“Poor little orphans, I suppose they are dreadfully overcome,” thought the good lady to herself.  “Well, I am glad I have appeared on the scene.  Poor David is just the sort of man who would forget everybody else when he is in a state of grief.  Of course I know he was passionately attached to Evangeline, and she certainly was a charming, although quite incapable, creature.  I suppose she was what would be termed ‘a man’s woman.’  Now, I have never any patience with them, and when I think of those acres of land and—­but, dear me! sometimes a matter-of-fact, plain body like myself is useful in an emergency.  The emergency has arrived with a vengeance, and I am determined to take the fortress by storm.”

The little lady trotted down one or two passages, then turned abruptly to her left, and knocked at a closed door.  A voice said, “Come in.”  She opened the door and entered.  A man was standing with his back to her in the deep embrasure of a mullioned window.  His hands were clasped behind his back; he was looking fixedly out.  The window was wide open.