They approached the house. The white figure had disappeared.
Saltash chatted inconsequently, strolling along with a cigarette between his lips, and a confident smile on his dark face. He had come down as usual unexpectedly, but she was probably aware of his advent. His car was awaiting him in the stable-yard. He did not think she would suffer him to pass the window unnoticed.
Yet as he drew near she made no sign. Chops came smiling down the steps to greet him, and he paused at once to fondle the dog.
Jake paused also, but he did not invite him to enter. He stood pulling at the lash of his riding-whip, stolidly patient, awaiting his patron's pleasure.
Suddenly Saltash looked up. "I believe your guest has arrived, Bolton. You'd better go. Never mind me!"
There came undoubtedly the sound of wheels from the other side of the house. Jake glanced towards the gate that led thither. Saltash bent again over the dog.
"You'd better go," he reiterated. "I won't show. Don't let me keep you!"
Jake raised a hand to his cap and turned away.
Instantly Saltash straightened himself. He uttered a low, clear whistle, and almost immediately Maud, clad in white, came to the window. He sprang up the steps in a single bound and caught her hands into his own.
"I had your letter," he said. "Quick! When can you meet me?"