"Good-morning, Carrissima!" said Colonel Faversham on Thursday morning, rubbing his palms briskly together as he entered the dining-room. "It looks as if there's going to be a change in the weather. A little rain will do good."

"Will it?" answered Carrissima, perfunctorily.

"What's the matter?" he demanded. "You're not eating anything. Always have a good breakfast. Lay a foundation for the day. Look at me! When my appetite fails, I shall begin to think it's time I gave in."

He made an enormous breakfast, and when at last it ended, took out his cigar-case. Having lighted a cigar, he carried the newspaper to his smoking-room and sat down, only to get up again the next minute. He did not care a scrap about the news! The Socialists might upset the constitution for all Colonel Faversham minded this morning! His thoughts already outran him to Golfney Place, where he fully expected to hear from Bridget's lips that she should be prepared to marry him within a week or a fortnight at the latest.

How enchantingly coy the dear girl had been yesterday! Taking down a Continental Bradshaw from one of the bookshelves, he looked up the route to Milan. She had chosen Rome, Naples and Capri for the honeymoon, and of course she should have her own way! Unable to control his impatience after half-past ten, Colonel Faversham went to his dressing-room, limping up-stairs as no one was looking, and imparted a more militant twirl to his moustache. When he reached the hall again Knight held his thin overcoat and handed his top-hat, gloves and malacca cane.

Seeing a taxi-cab Colonel Faversham hailed it, so that he reached Golfney Place earlier than ever before. As he rang the bell he could scarcely control his muscles. He coughed so violently that one or two people looked back at him in passing. He shifted the position of his hat so often as he waited for Miller to open the door, that he might have been making a series of automatic bows to imaginary acquaintances. He stamped his feet and felt that his necktie was in the middle of his shirt front, and then he rang a second time.

"Good heavens!" he muttered, "why can't the man come! Why can't he let me in!"

Miller opened the door at last, in the act of thrusting one arm into his coat. By the time Colonel Faversham had crossed the threshold the butler had assumed his usual deferential stoop and his manner was as suave as ever.

"Good-morning, Miller," said Colonel Faversham, pacified the instant he obtained admittance. "I am rather early. Miss Rosser?"

"Miss Rosser is not here, colonel," was the astounding answer.

"Not here! Good gracious! What do you mean?"

"Miss Rosser left the house at half-past three yesterday afternoon, colonel."

"Do you mean to tell me she has not returned?" demanded Colonel
Faversham.

"No," said Miller.

"But I have an appointment with her this morning!"

"I understand that Miss Rosser is not coming back, colonel," answered
Miller.

Colonel Faversham was ceasing to look entirely bewildered. He grew exceedingly red in the face; his eyes appeared to be starting out of his head. Horrible thoughts occurred to him. He glared at Miller as if he were responsible for Bridget's departure, and with miserable sensations he began to put a new interpretation upon the coyness which he had found so seductive yesterday morning.

"Miss Rosser," said Miller, "left a letter for you."

"Why on earth couldn't you tell me so at once!" demanded Colonel
Faversham.

"And a parcel," said Miller.

"Where are they? Where are they?" exclaimed the colonel; and Miller went to the rear of the hall, returning the next moment with a fair-sized, brown-paper parcel in his hand. It obviously contained the crocodile-hide dressing-bag, which had been Bridget's birthday present; the handle, indeed, projected for convenience of transport.

"Would you like to step into the dining-room, colonel?" suggested
Miller, giving him a square envelope.

"Damn the dining-room!" shouted Colonel Faversham, as with trembling fingers he broke the seal, whilst Miller still held the bag. Colonel Faversham did not wait to fix his eye-glass.

"DEAR COLONEL FAVERSHAM" (he read),

"How sorry I am to give you pain, and I know that I am doing so. I cannot possibly marry you, and I have not the courage to say so to your face. Why didn't you understand how hard I tried to tell you this morning—you really might have helped me out! You have always been so very kind. I positively hate to treat you badly. I have put all your presents inside the dressing-bag. Please try to forgive me, although I don't suppose you ever will! If it is any consolation to you, I feel—oh, so miserable!

"Yours sincerely,

"BRIDGET ROSSER."

Although the contents of the letter were easy enough to master, Colonel Faversham must needs fix his monocle, in order to read it again. "That infernal Jimmy!" he muttered, then folded the sheet of paper and bestowed it in his breast pocket.

"The parcel, colonel," suggested Miller, as he turned towards the door.

For a moment Colonel Faversham stood scowling at the butler and what he held in his hand. His first impulse was to refuse to have anything to do with it; but, after all, its contents were of considerable value. He might, perhaps, leave it at his club, although it could not remain there for ever, and perhaps it would be better to take it at once to Grandison Square and lock it up in the smoking-room cupboard.

At last he put out his hand, and came forth to the doorstep holding the crocodile-hide bag.

"Good-morning, colonel!" said Miller, but although his tone was even more suave and respectful than usual, Colonel Faversham fancied he detected in it something ironic. No doubt the man had formed his own opinion as to what was going on; but, thank goodness, nobody outside Number 5, Golfney Place had the faintest suspicion of his engagement!

He quite understood that this was broken beyond repair. Colonel Faversham knew when he was beaten. He had been treated in the most abominable manner, and he never desired to see Bridget's face again. Unaccustomed to carry a parcel through the streets, he was annoyed inasmuch as he could not see any kind of cab until he drew near to his own house, and unfortunately Carrissima happened to be looking out at the dining-room window.

She could not, however, see his face, and as he had left home in such ebullient spirits a little while ago, she went to meet him in the hall, where her eyes at once fell upon the bag.

"What is that?" she asked brightly. "A present for little Victor?"

"No," exclaimed the colonel, mimicking her voice, "it isn't a present for little Victor! What in the world should I be doing with a present for little Victor at this hour of the day?"

She naturally perceived that something must have occurred seriously to ruffle him, even if he had not slammed the door of the smoking-room so violently behind him. It did not take Carrissima long to draw her own conclusions. It is true she was ignorant of her father's engagement to Bridget, but she had anticipated his deposition by Jimmy Clynesworth, until Mark's conduct had complicated the outlook. On the whole, Carrissima was inclined to think that the climax had been reached this morning; that Colonel Faversham, having gone to Golfney Place, had quarrelled with Bridget, who had insisted on returning such presents as he had from time to time given to her.

While Colonel Faversham remained hidden in his smoking-room, Carrissima's mind was busy with his affairs, until about three-quarters of an hour later she happened to be crossing the hall, and saw Jimmy on the doorstep in conversation with Knight.

"Oh, Jimmy!" she exclaimed, "do come in!"

Without any hesitation he entered the hall, accompanying her up-stairs to the drawing-room.

"I don't know whether you have heard the news," he said, as he shut the door.

"Not a word!" was the answer. "I am positively dying to hear it."

A smile broke over Jimmy's face.

"Bridget has left Golfney Place!" he cried.

"When did she go?" asked Carrissima.

"At half-past three yesterday afternoon."

"Has she sought refuge where she ought to have sought it long ago?"

"Where is that?" demanded Jimmy.

"With her aunts at Sandbay!"

"By the bye," he said, "can you tell me their name?"

"Now—let me see!" answered Carrissima, reflecting for an instant. "Oh yes—Dobson. I feel certain that is right. It sounds quite ordinary, doesn't it?"

Jimmy Clynesworth had gone to bed the previous night, but not to sleep very early, with the fixed determination to stand clear of Bridget for the future. He felt, indeed, too distrustful of himself to re-approach her and yet remain loyal to his old friend Colonel Faversham.

When, however, he went into his own den to smoke an after-breakfast pipe, the first thing his eyes rested upon was a copy of one of David Rosser's novels. It obviously ought to be returned! He knew that Bridget valued her complete collection of her father's works. Of course nothing would have been easier than to send it by his man, or, for that matter, by the parcel post.

But Jimmy determined to take back the book in person; he would not enter the house, he would leave it at the door and just ask Miller how Bridget was this morning! At the back of his mind probably was some subconscious, unrecognized desire to seize any chance of seeing her once more if only for a moment, but on reaching the house he heard a repetition of the story with which Miller had overwhelmed Colonel Faversham.

For the instant Jimmy also was almost overwhelmed, but by vastly different sensations. He had no suspicion that Bridget intended to break off her engagement until the moment when Miller told him of the colonel's recent visit. Then Jimmy reached the truth by a leap. Bridget had gone away to escape from her elderly fiancÉ! At the time Jimmy believed that her announcement yesterday morning was prompted by a sense of duty—a little belated, no doubt.

She saw how it was with him, but having already plighted her troth she felt compelled to issue that unexpected warning. Now, however, Jimmy saw her conduct in another light. She had made up her mind to have done with Colonel Faversham at all costs! Lacking the courage to tell him so to his face, she had opened her heart to the man whom she loved and on whose love she counted.

From Bridget's point of view, Jimmy saw that he had failed her at the pinch. Still, she had acted for herself, not, perhaps, in the most desirable manner! Still, she must have made her bid for freedom, and now it came to the point, this seemed to be all that Jimmy cared about. It is true he had spoken to Bridget of his high regard for candour, but even that by no means equalled his regard for herself.

Whatever she had done, and Jimmy perceived that she must have treated Colonel Faversham less than well, this was not the time for criticism. The salient fact was that she had shaken herself free! Such a desirable end appeared to excuse almost any means. Bridget's disappearance did not in the least alarm him. There would be little difficulty in finding her again; the point was that he had become justified in undertaking the search.

Having thanked and tipped Miller, Jimmy set about the quest at once, and determined to take the bull by the horns. He would go to Grandison Square in the first place, see Colonel Faversham, and ascertain beyond a doubt that the coast was clear. Colonel Faversham, too, or Carrissima might perchance be able to suggest some clue to Bridget's hiding-place.