“I couldn’t possibly recall them,” said May, who had seated herself, and was becoming all but calm.  “Lord Dymchurch has a very vague way of talking.  He rambles from one subject to another.”

“But didn’t he say anything at all about marriage?” cried Lady Ogram, in exasperation.

“He spoke of his position and his prospects.  Perhaps he hoped I should understand—­but it was all so vague.”

“Why, then, the man is a scoundrel!  He never proposed to you at all, and he runs away leaving a lying letter behind him.  Yet I should never have thought that of Lord Dymchurch.”

She fixed her eyes on May, and added fiercely: 

“Are you telling me the truth?”

The girl bridled, staring straight before her with indignant evasiveness of look.

“My dear aunt!  How can you ask me such a question?  Of course I may have misunderstood Lord Dymchurch, but, if it hadn’t been for what you have once or twice said to me, I really shouldn’t ever have supposed that he meant anything.  He talks in such a rambling way—­”

She grew voluble.  Lady Ogram listened awhile, then cut her short.

“Very well.  There has been some queer sort of mistake, that’s plain.  I should like to know what Lord Dymchurch means.  Why couldn’t he see me, like an honest man?  It’s very extraordinary, this running away before breakfast, saying good-bye to nobody.”

She mused stormily, her eye ever and again turning upon the girl.

“Look here, May; do you think Constance knows anything about it?”

“I really can’t say—­I don’t see how—­”

“It was she that brought me his letter.  Do you think he spoke to her?”

“About me?” exclaimed May, uneasily.  “Oh!  I don’t think so—­I never noticed that they were friendly.”

“Ring the bell.”

Constance Bride was sent for.  Some moments passed; Lady Ogram stamped impatiently.  She ordered May to ring again, and demanded why Miss Bride kept her waiting.  Considerably more than five minutes had elapsed before the figure of the secretary appeared:  her face wore an expression of proud indifference, and at the sight of May’s subdued, timid air, she smiled coldly.

“Why have you been so long?” cried Lady Ogram.

“I came as soon as I could,” was the clear reply.

“Now listen to me, Constance,” broke vehemently from the bloodless lips.  “I’ll have no nonsense!  You understand that?  I’ll not be played with.  Deceive me, or treat me in any way unbecomingly, and you shall remember it the longest day you live.  I want to know whether Lord Dymchurch said anything to you to explain his sudden departure?”

“To me?  Certainly not.”

“Now mind!  I’ll get at the truth of this.  You know me!  May says that Lord Dymchurch never proposed to her at all.  What do you make of that?”

Constance glanced at Miss Tomalin, whose eyes fell.  Again she smiled.