“Come up!” repeated Horatia impatiently.

He slowly mounted the stairs. His hand was seized, and he was whisked into the big withdrawing-room that overlooked the street.

Horatia shut the door. “D-don’t speak too loud! Mama’s bedroom is next door. What did she say?”

“I have not seen Lady Winwood,” Mr Heron answered heavily.

“Stupid! L-Lizzie!”

He said tightly: “Only goodbye.”

“It shan’t be!” said Horatia, with determination. “L-listen, Edward! I have a p-plan!”

He looked down at her, a gleam of hope in his eyes. “I’ll do anything!” he said. “Only tell me!”

“It isn’t anything for you to do,” said Horatia. “I am g-going to do it!”

“You?” he said doubtfully. “But what can you do?”

“I d-don’t know, but I’m g-going to try. M-mind, I can’t be sure that it will succeed, but I think perhaps it m-might.”

“But what is it?” he persisted.

“I shan’t say. I only told you because you looked so very m-miserable. You had better trust me, Edward.”

“I do,” he assured her. “But—”

Horatia pulled him to stand in front of the mirror over the fireplace. “Then straighten your hair,” she said severely. “J-just look at it. You’ve crushed your hat too. There! Now, g-go away, Edward, before Mama hears you.”

Mr Heron found himself pushed to the door. He turned and grasped Horatia’s hand. “Horry, I don’t see what you can do, but if you can save Elizabeth from this match—”

Two dimples leapt into being; the grey eyes twinkled. “I know. You w-will be my m-most obliged servant. Well, I will!”

“More than that!” he said earnestly.

“Hush, Mama will hear!” whispered Horatia, and thrust him out of the room.

Chapter Two

Mr Arnold Gisborne, lately of Queen’s College, Cambridge, was thought by his relatives to have been very fortunate to have acquired the post of secretary to the Earl of Rule.