An ominous foreboding knocked at the door of his mind.

Where was Nan going with Rooke--driving at reckless speed at this hour of the day on the way to London, when, according to arrangement, she should have been ready later on to adventure herself in the "stink-pot"?

Of course it was just possible she had only gone out for a morning spin with Maryon and proposed returning in time to keep her appointment with him. But the hour was an unusually early one at which to make a start, and the green car was ripping along at a pace which rather precluded the idea of a pleasure jaunt.

Sandy was obsessed by a sense of misgiving that would not be denied.

Wheeling his bicycle round, he mounted and headed straight for Mallow Court at break-neck speed.

He arrived to find Kitty composedly dividing her attention between her breakfast and an ill.u.s.trated paper, and for a moment he felt rea.s.sured.

She jumped up and greeted him joyfully.

"Hullo, Sandy! Been down to bathe? Come along and have some breakfast with me. Or have you had it already?"

He shook his head.

"No, I've not been home yet."

"Then you must be famished. I'll ring for another cup. I'm all alone in my glory. Barry and the Fentons departed yesterday on their fishing trip, and Nan--"

"Yes. Where's Nan?" For the life of him he could not check the eager question.

"She's gone off for the day with Maryon. He's driving her over to Clovelly--she's never been there, you know."

Sandy's heart sank. He knew the quickest route from St. Wennys to Clovelly--and the green car's nose had been set in quite a different direction.

"She's fixed up to go out with me this afternoon," he said slowly.

"Tch!" Kitty clicked her tongue sharply against her teeth and, crossing to the chimneypiece, took down a letter which, was resting there. "I'd forgotten this! She left it to be given to you when you called for her this afternoon. I wanted her to 'phone and put you off, but she said you would understand when you'd read the letter and that there was something she wanted you to do for her."

Sandy ripped open the envelope and his eyes flew down the page. Its contents struck him like a blow--none the less hard because it had been vaguely antic.i.p.ated--and a half-stifled exclamation broke from him.

"Sandy dear"--it ran--"I'm going to vanish out of your life, but we've been such good pals that I can't do it without just a word of good-bye, not of justification--I know there's none for what I'm going to do.

But I know, too, that there'll be a little pity in your heart for me, and that you, at least, will understand in a way why I've had to do this, and won't blame me quite so much as the rest of the world. I'm going away with Maryon, and by this afternoon, when you come to fetch me for our motor spin, I shall have taken the first step on the new road. Nothing you could have said would have altered my determination, so you need never think that, Sandy boy. I know your first impulse will be to put the 'stink-pot' along at forty miles an hour in wild pursuit of me. But you can spare your petrol. Be very sure that even if you overtook me, I shouldn't come back.

"I don't expect to find happiness, but life with Maryon can never be dull. There'd never be anything to occupy my mind at Trenby--except soup jellies. So it would just go running round and round in circles--with the memory of all I've missed as the pivot of the circle.

I'm sure Maryon will at least be able to stop me from thinking in circles. He's always flying off at a tangent--and naturally I shall have to go flying after him.

"And now there's just one thing I want you still to do for me. _Tell Kitty_. I couldn't leave a letter for her, as it might have been found almost at once. You won't get this till you come over for me in the afternoon, and by that time Maryon and I shall be far enough away.

Give Kitty all my love, and tell her I feel a beast to leave her like this after her angel goodness to me. And say to her, too, that I will write very soon.

"Good-bye, Sandy boy."

"Well? Well?" Kitty's patience was getting exhausted. Moreover there was something in the set look on Sandy's face that frightened her.

He handed her the letter.

"She's bolted with Maryon Rooke," he said simply.

When Kitty had absorbed the contents of the letter she looked up at him blankly. The shock of it held her momentarily speechless. Then, after what seemed to her an endless silence, she stammered out:

"Nan--gone! And it's too late to stop her!"

"It's not!" The words leapt from Sandy's lips. "We _must_ stop her!"

The absolute determination in his voice infected Kitty. She felt her courage rising to the emergency.

"What can we do?" she asked quietly. She was as steady as a rock now.

Sandy dropped into a chair, absent-mindedly lighting one of the "gaspers" he had so recently purchased.

"We must work it out," he said slowly. "Rooke told you they were going to Clovelly, didn't he?"

"Yes."

"Well, they're not going anywhere near. That was just a blind. They took the London road."

"Even that mightn't mean they were going to London. They could branch off anywhere."

"They could," agreed Sandy, puffing thoughtfully at his cigarette.

"But we've got to remember Rooke has a house in Westminster--nice little backwater. It's just on the cards they might go there first--wherever else they intended going on to afterwards--just to pick up anything Rooke might want, arrange about letters and so on."

"Yes?" There was a keen light in Kitty's eyes. She was following Sandy's thought with all a woman's quickness. "And you think you might overtake them there?"

"I must do more than that. I must _be there first_--to receive them."

"Can you do it in the time?"

"Yes. By train. They're travelling by car, remember."

Kitty glanced at the clock.

"It's too late for you to catch the early train from St. Wennys Halt.

And there's no other till the afternoon."

"I shan't risk the afternoon train. It stops at every little wayside station and if it were ten minutes late I'd miss the express from Exeter."

"Then you'll motor?"

"Yes, I'll drive to Exeter, and catch the train that gets in to town about half-past seven. Maryon isn't likely to reach London till about an hour or so after that."

"That's settled, then. The next thing is breakfast for two," said Kitty practically. "I'd only just begun when you came, and I--I'll start again to keep you company. You must be absolutely starving by now."

She rang the bell and gave her orders to the servant who appeared in answer.

"What about Aunt Eliza?" she went on when they were alone again. "I'll 'phone her you're having breakfast here, shall I?"

"Yes. And, look here, we've got to make things appear quite ordinary.