quil, went to bed. She slept more soundly than she had done for many days. When she awoke the sun was streaming into her room, and she gave a deep sigh of delight. She could see trees from her bed and blue sky. All her troubles seemed easy to bear when the world was so beautiful, and she was ready to laugh at the fears that had so affected her.
She got up, put on a dressing-gown, and went to Margaret’s room. It was empty. The bed had not been slept in. On the pillow was a note.
“It’s no good; I can’t help myself. I’ve gone back to him. Don’t trouble about me any more. It’s quite hopeless and useless.
Susie gave a little gasp. Her first thought was for Arthur, and she uttered a wail of sorrow because he must be cast again into the agony of desolation. Once more she had to break the dreadful news. She dressed hurriedly and ate some breakfast. There was no train till nearly eleven, and she had to bear her impatience as best she could. At last it was time to start, and she put on her gloves. At that moment the door was opened, and Arthur came in.
She gave a cry of terror and turned pale.
“I was just coming to London to see you,” she faltered. “How did you find out?”
“Haddo sent me a box of chocolates early this morning with a card on which was written: I think the odd trick is mine.”
This cruel vindictiveness, joined with a schoolboy love of taunting the vanquished foe, was very
