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Miss Roseingrave and Mother Cloke were so occupied that afternoon that they did not notice the absence of Phoebe nor how, when she came home, she crept upstairs to her sister’s bedroom and gaped long and curiously at the stranger, heavily asleep on the dimity-covered bed, and after that went to where her mother lay and whispered to her long and eagerly.

Although Miss Julia was not aware of the fact, these two understood each other perfectly. Mrs Roseingrave could use her left hand a little and shape a few characters on paper, though with difficulty. A pencil usually lay within her reach and she contrived to get hold of this, when Phoebe had finished her chatter, and to write with painful effort a few words on a fly-leaf she tore out of the Bible. It took her some time to accomplish this task, and Phoebe gaped at her the while without offering to help.

What Mrs Roseingrave had written was: ‘Your wife is here,’ and the name of Sir William Notley.

She pushed this paper into Phoebe’s hands and tried to convey to her that she was to deliver it to the Baronet. Phoebe ran out of the room as if she had understood, but no sooner had she left her mother’s presence than she forgot all about the paper and went out into the park, chasing the blue butterflies she saw flying under the chestnut trees, and in this frantic pursuit the paper fell out of her bosom, where she had tucked it, on to the path which led to Holcot Grange.

So that Sir William, coming towards the Dower House at the hour of sunset saw the paper, picked it up, and read the message.