"I hoped I shouldn't waken you," replied Honor in a whisper. "Hush! Don't talk loud, because with all the windows so wide open the girls in No. 6 can hear quite plainly when we speak in this room."
"All right. But do tell me why you're getting up at this extraordinary hour?" said Janie, in a subdued tone.
"I'm in a dreadful fix! I must meet Dermot down on the beach soon after five o'clock."
"Meet Dermot! Your brother? But why?"
"He's in such a scrape, and I have to get him out of it."
"How do you know?"
"One of the servants slipped this note into my hand last night, as we came in from the garden. You can read it if you like."
Janie took the letter, which was written in a scrawling, boyish hand on a piece of paper apparently torn out of an exercise-book. It ran thus:—
"Orley Grange,
"Tuesday.
"Dear Honor,