"And threw away his beef-tea, and broke the cup. Truly I cannot imagine anyone doing that, save my uncle."
"I must say that I have not been so thoroughly puzzled by any case for a long while," remarked the lawyer, as he rose to depart.
And puzzled Mr. Plackett was destined to remain; at least for some time yet to come. If Miss Winter had looked to benefit by his advice, she was disappointed. He had no advice of any consequence to offer. He could only thank her again for her frankness, and say that he would consult with his client, Mr. Denison, and, with her permission, write to her in the course of a few days. Then, declining refreshments, he left the Hall, much more disquieted in his mind than when he had arrived at it.
But within an hour of the lawyer's departure, Miss Winter had something else to think about than his promise to write to her. There came a telegram from Edward Conroy. He had reached London, and hoped to be at Heron Dyke on the morrow.
[CHAPTER V.]
A FRUITLESS ERRAND
Matters with Philip Cleeve were not progressing quite to his satisfaction. Upon going down to breakfast one morning, he was surprised to find his mother down before him. A notable thing; for Lady Cleeve was seldom able to rise early. Philip kissed her fondly.
"This is a rare treat, mother," he said. "It seems like old times come back again."
She pressed his hand and smiled tenderly in his bright, handsome face. "I want to have a little talk with you before you go out, Philip. I sat up for you last night, but you came home late."
"Ah, yes, to be sure," replied Philip hurriedly, very conscious that he was too often late. "I went round to George Winstone's lodgings, and the time slipped away."