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LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 CURING CHRISTOPHER 
 
 THE BODLEY HEAD 
 
LOOKING 
 FOR GRACE 
 
 BY MRS. HORACE TREMLETT 
 
 LONDON : JOHN LANE THE BODLEY HEAD 
 NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY MCMXV 
 
rHK ANCHOR PRESS, LTD., TIPTREE, ESSEX, ENGLAND. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 BLACKHEATH, as everybody knows, is not 
 what it was. Its glory has departed. The 
 mansions which, fifty years ago, housed the 
 famiHes of the elect are now, for the most part, 
 degraded into boarding-establishments, or given 
 over frankly to the rats by the executors of their late 
 tenants. No longer around the Heath do crocodiles 
 of well-born damsels take their daily walks, nor the 
 sons of gentlemen disport themselves with a football 
 in their leisure hours. Footballs there are, and boys 
 to play with them ; girls too, and quite nice girls, 
 but they are not so exclusive, so refined, or so genteel 
 as in the days when these words had real meanings 
 of their own. 
 
 However, not to take a too gloomy view of what 
 was once an aristocratic neighbourhood, Blackheath 
 has still a certain cachet of its own for the older 
 generation. It is still quite near to Woolwich, and 
 many a retired veteran of either Service may yet be 
 seen in his ample tweed knickerbockers playing golf 
 on the links. It has never for a moment lost the 
 proud disdain with which it looks down on Lewisham 
 and Lee ; and, if there are some of us who despise it 
 for a mouldy old reHc of the past, there are others 
 
 3445G1 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 who value it the more highly on that account. 
 There are those who would not exchange their dingy 
 little Victorian house, with its clipped laurel hedge 
 and its dummy windows, for the smartest flat in 
 town ; and many there are whose soul has never 
 once pined for a motor car, nor yearned for the 
 distinction of a telephone number. 
 
 The Massinghams had lived in the large, square 
 house facing the Heath ever since the day when 
 young Wilfred had taken the vicar's daughter there 
 as his bride, somewhere about the year eighteen 
 hundred and eighty-nine ; and were universally 
 acknowledged as the head of a numerous family 
 whose roots were deep in the soil of the neighbour- 
 hood. Mrs. Waterson, who was Mrs. Massingham's 
 half-sister, Hved in Shooter's Hill Road with her ten 
 children, or such of them as were left. Uncle 
 Percival, who was a childless widower, occupied a 
 house in The Paragon. There were the Drakes at 
 Woolwich ; the Miss Mansons, who eked out the 
 tiny pension their father had left them by taking in 
 select paying guests ; and, in a new and commodious 
 villa of which nobody approved, there were the 
 Burton-Smiths, who were not quite-quite, but 
 admitted because she had been a Neville-Ross. 
 
 Most of the philanthropic effort of the district was 
 undertaken by the Massinghams, the work being 
 done by the poorer relations, and the glory which 
 accrued, if any, being allotted to those who headed 
 the subscription hsts ; and it is safe to say that 
 nothing went on, either socially or otherwise, for 
 miles round, but they had a hand in it. Front seats 
 were reserved for them ; station-masters bowed when 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 they travelled ; and the tradesmen who had the 
 honour of serving them sent them the best of their 
 wares, and charged them higher prices than anyone 
 else on their books. But, in spite of this lavish 
 attention, they were not at all proud ; they took it 
 all as a generous tribute of those whom Providence 
 had placed beneath them, and their manner to each 
 other, their friends and their servants, was cordial 
 in the extreme. Outsiders, of course, did not 
 exist. 
 
 It was half-past eight one bright February morn- 
 ing, and Mrs. Wilfred Massingham sat at the head 
 of her breakfast table, wearing the same expression 
 which for twenty-five years she had invariably worn 
 at that hour of the day. Obviously, breakfast was 
 a duty, and one which no Massingham would evade. 
 Punctuality, too, and a certain sober cleanliness were 
 evidently due to the occasion. One had only to 
 look at her to see that she had never known what it 
 was to feel like the morning after the night before : 
 bacon had no terrors for her, the boiled egg was one 
 of her household gods. 
 
 She was a well-preserved woman of about fifty, 
 with a somewhat hard but persistently pleasant 
 face ; her hair was frankly turning grey and was 
 neatly dressed to suggest an impregnable virtue. 
 Her firm, plump hands showed not the slightest sign 
 of restlessness or even of activity ; and as she 
 dehberately measured three teaspoonfuls of tea into 
 the silver teapot, and poured over it water from the 
 bubbHng kettle before her, she looked — what indeed 
 she had always tried to be — a thoroughly con- 
 scientious. God-fearing gentlewoman. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 But this morning, in spite of her determined 
 efforts to be quite ordinary, it was evident that 
 something had interfered with her usually robust 
 appetite. Her toast lay unheeded on her plate, and 
 she sipped her tea mechanically, her eyes wandering 
 with a sort of expectant disapproval towards the 
 doorway. Not that she really minded Lovie's being 
 a little late : everything was so extraordinary these 
 days that one had to make allowances. And Lovie 
 was such a comfort, had been so sympathetic and 
 helpful during the trying events of the past month, 
 that she might almost have asked for her breakfast 
 in bed and it would not have been denied her. 
 
 Before the toast grew cold, a quick patter of 
 footsteps was heard on the stairs, and a moment 
 later a cheerful looking girl of about twenty entered 
 the room. 
 
 " Morning, auntie," she said, sHding hastily into 
 her seat. " So sorry I'm late. I rushed down in my 
 dressing-gown to look at the paper, and breakfast 
 time came before I was ready for it. How did you 
 sleep ? " she prattled on, as she lifted a shining cover 
 and helped herself to a tiny curl of bacon. 
 
 " Not at all. well," said Aunt Margaret, " this 
 terrible war is getting on my nerves. I had my hot 
 milk as usual but somehow I could not get off ; it 
 must have been quite two o'clock before I closed my 
 eyes. I kept thinking about your poor uncle. 
 Poor, dear Wilfred, how very sad it all is ! " 
 
 " But you have been so splendid," said Lovie 
 loyally, " so brave. I think the way you have gone 
 through everything has been simply wonderful. 
 Most women would have been utterly prostrate at 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 losing a husband, and having a son go to the Front, 
 all within a month." 
 
 " Of course Bernard has not gone yet," said his 
 mother thoughtfully. 
 
 " And perhaps he never will go," added Lovie. 
 " They can't surely send him until he learns some- 
 thing about soldiering ; at present he hardly knows 
 one end of a rifle from the other, poor darling." 
 
 " No, I am not worrying about Bernard," said 
 Mrs. Massingham. " I cannot help thinking that it 
 is a great pity he has seen fit to throw up such a 
 promising career, but that is a matter about which, 
 as you know, I have decided to say no more. It 
 was your uncle who was in my mind last night. As 
 I lay awake, I could not help going over the past, and 
 thinking, wondering, whether I had always done my 
 duty towards him. I have certainly tried to do so. 
 Our house, as fax as I could make it, was always 
 a comfortable one. I never interfered with his 
 fishing, although he was often away from me for 
 weeks at a time and invariably came back with a 
 bad cold. 
 
 " Even about Evans, I'm sure I have been most 
 reasonable. As you know, I never liked Evans ; 
 but, seeing that he had been my husband's servant 
 for so long, I put up with him, and have done so 
 without a murmur for twenty-five years. Although 
 I could not, in my own mind, approve of all his 
 volunteering nonsense, so expensive and unnecessary, 
 I have never really stood in his way ; and when war 
 broke out, and he rushed off to the War Office 
 offering himself for an emergency billet, and swearing 
 that he was only forty-five — which was so obviously 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 untrue — even then I said nothing. In fact, I did 
 everything I possibly could to help him to get ready. 
 And when, at the last, he refused to take that nice 
 portmanteau with his bed linen and all his thick 
 underclothing, I merely said, if you remember, 
 ' Very well, my dear ; you know best.' " Her 
 voice was growing very pathetic, and she dabbed her 
 eyes with a large, immaculate handkerchief. 
 
 ** You have lived so much with us, dear child, 
 since the death of your parents, that it can be no 
 secret to you that your uncle and I did not always 
 understand each other. In spite of his genial 
 manner, he had a very cold nature ; and I myself 
 am so warm-hearted that perhaps I did not always 
 make sufficient allowance for what seemed to me a 
 lack of natural affection. But, nevertheless, I have 
 mourned him as truly as any wife ever mourned a 
 husband. His death was a great grief to me, to say 
 nothing of the shock of it coming so suddenly, and 
 no funeral or anything to help one tide over the first 
 few days ; and if I do not wear a cap, it is not from 
 any lack of respect, but because — well, he always 
 took such a pride in my appearance that I feel sure 
 he would not have wished to see me look a middle- 
 aged old frump, which is what I certainly do look 
 like in those dreadful caps." 
 
 " Of course he wouldn't," said Lovie cheerfully. 
 " I remember him saying one day that he didn't like 
 widows." 
 
 " Did not like widows ! " exclaimed Mrs. Massing- 
 ham incredulously. " But what a very strange 
 thing to say ! He so often spoke like that, without 
 thinking, I am sure." 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 ** Of course he did not mean his own widow," 
 explained Lovie hastily. " It was that dingy, 
 depressed look he objected to. He did so love us all 
 to be merry and bright, didn't he ? And so we must 
 try to be ; and you must try too, dear Aunt Mar- 
 garet, it would please him." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, I will try," sighed Mrs. Massing- 
 ham, rising with resolution from the table. " There 
 is so much to be done, is there not ? All the poor 
 soldiers' wives to look after ; the wounded to care 
 for ; and the quantities of things which must be 
 sent to the Front — to say nothing of those unhappy 
 Belgians. When I think that, but for the grace of 
 God, I myself might be a destitute refugee stranded 
 in a foreign country without a penny of my own, 
 and obliged to wear other people's clothes, I feel 
 I can never do enough for them in gratitude that I 
 am not called upon to suffer in that way." 
 
 *' I know," said Lovie thoughtfully, " one does 
 feel Hke that sometimes. I hear Mrs. Burton- 
 Smith is trying to arrange for another batch of them 
 to come here. I wonder if we could — how do you 
 think it would be if we took some in ? " 
 
 " In here ! In this house ? " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Massingham aghast. 
 
 "It would be a very useful thing to do," urged 
 Lovie persuasively. " I promise to look after them 
 myself ; they would be no trouble at all to you." 
 
 Mrs. Massingham took up the poker and banged 
 it vigorously on a large lump of coal in the grate. 
 
 " They would be most uncomfortable here," she 
 said firmly. " I could not possibly have them in the 
 rooms we use ourselves, and Evans, I feel sure, 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 would deeply resent any interference in the servants' 
 quarters. I fully appreciate, dear child, your 
 suggestion to take it all upon your own shoulders, 
 but it is an impossible idea — your dear uncle would 
 be the first one to say so if he were here." 
 
 " I believe Uncle Wilfred would like us to do it," 
 persisted Lovie gently. " See how he dashed off to 
 do what he could ; he gave up his life without a 
 moment's thought." 
 
 "I am fully aware of that," admitted Aunt 
 Margaret with some heat. " But giving up your Ufe 
 is one thing, and having a lot of strangers rushing up 
 and downstairs all day and night, spoiling the carpets 
 and upsetting the servants, is another. Your uncle 
 was a perfectly just and reasonable man ; he would 
 certainly never have allowed the house to be turned 
 upside down from a mistaken sense of duty. Besides 
 which, he did not care for Belgians, and the French 
 language always annoyed him owing to his not 
 understanding what it was all about. I am con- 
 vinced he would never have permitted me to make 
 any such sacrifice. What Httle money I have to give 
 away they shall have with pleasure, because if they 
 did not get it somebody else would ; but as to having 
 them here, you must understand, once and for all, 
 my dear child, that it is quite impossible." 
 
 " Very well, then," sighed Lovie philosophically, 
 *' I must just go on knitting, I suppose. But, oh 
 dear, I am so tired of making mufflers, and it does 
 seem so little to do when every one else is doing so 
 much." 
 
 Both women looked up quickly as the obnoxious 
 Evans entered the room, bearing some letters on his 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 little silver tray. He was a shuffling, untidy old man 
 in rather disreputable black clothes, and a pair of 
 dress shoes which had obviously belonged to some 
 one with much larger feet ; and, as he approached 
 his mistress, her eye travelled critically from his too 
 shaggy head, past his doubtful collar, over his 
 crumpled clothes, and rested with unmistakable 
 disapproval on his ill-kept hands. However, with 
 the habit of years still strong upon her, she smiled 
 almost amiably at him as she took the letters from 
 his tray. 
 
 " I thought the postman must have gone 
 past," she observed pleasantly. " He's late this 
 morning." 
 
 " It's a new man," said Evans conversationally. 
 " I hear that Osborn has gone back to his old 
 regiment. This young feller don't know the work. 
 Should I clear the table ? " he went on, already 
 hovering over the empty dishes. 
 
 " Please do," repHed Mrs. Massingham, busy 
 with her envelopes. 
 
 '* I see as there's a letter from the Front," com- 
 mented Evans, as he folded up the table-napkins. 
 
 No reply was forthcoming, and he proceeded to 
 gather up the plates, his rugged old face set in a look 
 of grim suffering which was very pathetic, had there 
 been any one to notice it. 
 
 " I don't suppose there's anything more about — 
 'im ? " he ventured at length, halting hopefully in 
 the doorway. 
 
 But Mrs. Massingham did not even hear him. 
 Her eyes were fixed on the letter before her ; the 
 hand which held it trembled ever so Httle, and her 
 
10 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 lips were compressed into a tight line as though 
 determined that no sound should escape them. 
 
 It seemed a long time to Lovie until her aunt 
 reached the end of the page, and laid the letter down 
 on her lap with a gesture of helpless resignation that 
 was wholly new to her. 
 
 " What's the matter ? " asked the girl quickly. 
 
 Mrs. Massingham gazed at her with unseeing eyes. 
 " I do not believe it," she said faintly. 
 
 " Oh, what is it ? " cried Lovie in alarm. " Do 
 tell me quickly." 
 
 "It is utterly untrue," repeated Aunt Margaret 
 in a firmer tone. " Who is this Mr. — Barnes ? 
 Have you ever heard of him ? " 
 
 " May I see his letter ? " asked Lovie patiently. 
 " Mr. Barnes, of course, was one of Uncle Wilfred's 
 subalterns. I remember the name quite well." 
 
 " He has written me a preposterous letter about 
 your uncle," said Mrs. Massingham. " You may 
 go," she added severely to the faithful Evans who 
 was standing motionless in the doorway and listening 
 with both his ears. " When I want you I will ring. 
 Close the door, please." 
 
 " ril come back and close it, me 'ands is full of 
 dishes," said Evans obediently. " Don't you bother 
 to close it, I won't be a minute." 
 
 " Oh, that terrible old man 1 " moaned Mrs. 
 Massingham, sinking back into her chair. " I feel 
 nearly distracted, Lovie. Will you be good enough 
 to shut the door at once, please, and when you have 
 done so read me the letter again. I cannot believe 
 it, I will not. Perhaps I have made a mistake." 
 
 Lovie flashed over to the door and back again in a 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE ii 
 
 moment. Then she took up the letter which was 
 still lying in her aunt's lap and began to read 
 breathlessly : 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Massingham, 
 
 " I have been wanting to write to you for some 
 time, but had the bad luck to be wounded and have 
 only just come out of hospital. As I was with 
 Col. Massingham at the time of his death, I think 
 perhaps you will be glad to have news of his last 
 hours. He was severely wounded by a piece of 
 shrapnel in the left lung, and we feared from the 
 first that there was Httle hope for him ; but we did 
 all we could at the time, and he was taken without 
 any delay to the Field Hospital. There he lingered 
 for nearly three hours, not in much pain, I am glad 
 to say, and practically unconscious for most of the 
 time. However, just at the end, he had a lucid 
 interval, and you will like to know that his last 
 thoughts were for you. It appeared to me that he 
 wished to send you a message of some kind, but I 
 could not catch clearly what he said. I could only 
 hear him murmuring, ' Grace, Grace, tell Grace I 
 have done what I could.' I am afraid this will not 
 be much comfort to you in your great trouble, but I 
 feel it is my duty to let you know the Httle there is 
 to say. His loss has left a place in the Brigade which 
 will be very difficult to fill. ^ 
 
 " With deep sympathy, I remain, 
 
 " Yours very truly, 
 
 " Cyril Barnes." 
 
 A deathly stillness followed the reading of this 
 
12 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 illuminating letter. The two women looked steadily 
 at each other for some seconds without saying a 
 word. Then Mrs. Massingham spoke, in a voice 
 which cut the silence like a saw : 
 
 " Who is Grace ? " she demanded with austerity. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 13 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 MRS. MASSINGHAM'S question acted like 
 the proverbial stone dropped into a 
 pond : the splash of it caused a Httle 
 ripple which widened and spread until it reached 
 the very outside edge of her environments. Even 
 to Lovie, unversed as she was in the ways of the 
 world, there was a curious menace in those three 
 words ; they seemed fraught with terrible sig- 
 nificance, pregnant with a meaning which, as it 
 dawned gradually on her understanding, filled her 
 with bewilderment. In uneasy haste she tried to 
 remember who Grace might be ; with furrowed 
 brow racked her brains to evolve a likely Grace 
 from amongst their acquaintances. But she could 
 think of no one. 
 
 There was, of course, Mr. Grace who had dined 
 with them one day last summer, and her fancy 
 hovered hopefully over him until Aunt Margaret 
 reminded her of the fatal message : " Tell her I have 
 done what I could." There was also Grace, the 
 housemaid who had married ^t he milkman : a good, 
 steady girl with a rabid devotion to duty, as evinced 
 by the four babies with which she had presented 
 her husband in four years ; but not one likely to 
 haunt the last hours of her Uncle Wilfred. Aunt 
 
 B 
 
14 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 Margaret agreed with her that it could not be that 
 Grace. 
 
 Indeed, it seemed almost an impertinence to 
 speculate on so delicate a subject, especially under 
 the stony stare of disapproval which was gradually 
 crystalHsing on Mrs. Massingham's face. 
 
 " Wild conjectures are no use to me at all," she 
 said frigidly. " It would have been better, perhaps, 
 if I had kept the matter to myself, and I wish now 
 that I had done so. But on the spur of the moment, 
 and being so upset that I hardly knew what I was 
 doing, I fooUshly passed you the letter." 
 
 " And I'm very glad you did," said Lovie sturdily. 
 *' Perhaps I can help you to think of some ex- 
 planation. In the first place, I don't believe Uncle 
 Wilfred ever said anything of the sort ; and, even if 
 he did, you know what delirious people are, they will 
 say anything. I know, when I have ever such a 
 slight temperature, I feel too utterly mad for words : 
 I should be just as likely to say ' Grace ' as * Mar- 
 garet.' " 
 
 " Perhaps you are right," admitted her aunt 
 dubiously. "It is very difficult for me to believe 
 that your uncle had an affair such as I am well aware 
 many men have, unknown to their wives. He had his 
 faults, we all have, but deceit was not one of them." 
 
 " I daresay Evans would know if there had been 
 anything of the kind ? " suggested Lovie hopefully. 
 
 Mrs. Massingham stared. " It is not very likely 
 that I should discuss a matter of this kind with 
 Evans," she observed with hauteur. 
 
 " Of course not," agreed Lovie hastily. 
 
 " If anyone at all is to be consulted about it, I 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 15 
 
 should naturally see Mr. Gouldsmith, your uncle's 
 solicitor," continued Mrs. Massingham. 
 
 " Yes, why not ? " assented Lovie. '' But, on 
 the other hand, would it not be just as well to let 
 the whole thing sHde ? Don't you think it's rather 
 a pity to interfere ? If Uncle Wilfred had any 
 little things he did not wish you to know, it would be 
 kinder not to try and find out." 
 
 " I totally disagree with you," said Aunt Margaret 
 firmly. " If it should prove — which I do not think it 
 will — but if, as I say, it should transpire that your 
 uncle had a — a friend to whom he wished a message 
 sent after his death, it is my duty to see that his 
 wishes are carried out. Without, of course, intrud- 
 ing in any way upon his private affairs, I should not 
 be happy in my own mind until I had fulfilled what 
 I feel to have been his dying request. And besides 
 that, although I hope I am not an inquisitive woman, 
 because there is nothing I dislike more, it is only 
 natural that I should wish to know something of an 
 affair which has evidently been kept from me. Yes. 
 I shall go up to town this morning and call on Mr. 
 Gouldsmith. It will not be a pleasant duty, but I 
 have never allowed my personal inclinations to stand 
 in the way of what I feel I ought to do." 
 
 " Very well, then," assented Lovie, with the easy 
 acquiescence of one who knows that protest is 
 useless, '* shall I ring up and say that he is to expect 
 you ? " 
 
 " Please do," said Mrs. Massingham, " and tell 
 Cook to come upstairs for her orders. I really do not 
 feel equal to going down into the kitchen this morn- 
 ing, after all I have been through." 
 
i6 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 So Aunt Margaret went up to town, in her expen- 
 sive mourning cloak, and a hat which had been 
 transformed by a clever milliner into something not 
 quite so lugubrious as usual ; and Lovie tucked 
 herself up into a huge arm-chair by the fire and 
 settled down for a quiet hour with her despised 
 muffler. 
 
 As her needles clicked, her thoughts raced ahead, 
 and a tiny pucker gathered on her brow that could 
 not possibly have been caused by the intricacies of 
 the work she was doing. Several times she laid it 
 down, and gazed for a few moments before her with 
 eyes which saw nothing ; and occasionally her whole 
 face lightened with a little reminiscent smile, as of 
 some sweet secret in her heart. From which signs 
 the intelligent reader will doubtless recognise the 
 familiar symptoms of Love, in its first and harmless 
 stage. 
 
 Lovie, being only twenty, and a very nice girl, 
 attractive and sympathetic withal, was, of course, in 
 love ; and it says a good deal for her bringing-up 
 that this was the first experience which, in her whole 
 life, had caused her any uneasiness whatever. Not 
 that there was anything about the affair to call for 
 special anxiety or apprehension ; a more experienced 
 eye would have welcomed with enthusiasm a road to 
 happiness so clear and well-defined. But Lovie, 
 although a clever little woman in many ways, was 
 still a child at heart ; and the fact that Bernard and 
 she were first cousins, and that the idea of their ever 
 being anything else had never once entered the mind 
 of Bernard's mother, seemed to her to constitute a 
 serious obstacle in the course of True Love. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 17 
 
 It had been such a surprise when Bernard, on the 
 night that he left home to join his regiment for the 
 first time, had suddenly seized her in his arms and 
 kissed her in his rough boyish fashion ; and yet not 
 really a surprise, for, she told herself, she had 
 surely always known the world could hold only one 
 man for her. When it was all over, and they tried 
 to look in each other's eyes, both had been too shy 
 to speak, and Lovie smiled to herself as she remem- 
 bered his halting apology and the words he had 
 softly breathed into her hair : " Good-bye, little 
 Lovie. If I come back — when I come back, you 
 won't forget, will you ? " 
 
 It had all passed like a wonderful dream, on the 
 dimly lighted landing upstairs. She could still hear 
 Aunt Margaret's voice, telling Evans to mind the 
 paint as he lumbered downstairs with a bulky kit 
 bag. A clatter of dishes had come up from the 
 kitchen, and she remembered the rough feel of his 
 new tunic against her cheek, the unfamiliar leather 
 belt, as she slipped her arm round his huge waist. 
 
 Then he was gone ; and she peeped over the 
 banisters and watched his sleek head as he bowed it 
 to kiss his mother good-bye ; saw his hearty hand- 
 shake for old Evans. A moment later the front 
 door had closed behind him, and she was alone, her 
 heart aching with a painful sort of rapture, so that 
 she hardly knew whether to laugh or to cry. 
 
 Over a week had passed since that eventful 
 evening, a most delicious dream week ; for Love 
 hung like a golden haze around her, and she lived in 
 a sweet world of her own : a world where materialism 
 had no sway and ** disillusion " was a word unknown. 
 
i8 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 Her reverie was interrupted by the entrance of old 
 Evans, who glided almost furtively into the room. 
 She smiled kindly at him, because Bernard liked 
 him. He was intent, it appeared, upon making up 
 the fire, but it was a tedious process, and what with 
 sweepings and brushings, putting on of coals, and 
 poking them into their appointed corners, several 
 minutes elapsed before he had finished it to his own 
 satisfaction. 
 
 As he rose stiffly from his knees, he sighed deeply. 
 
 " It's a sad thing to be getting old, Miss Lovie," 
 he remarked dismally, " to feel that nobody wants 
 yer." 
 
 " But you mustn't feel that, Evans," said Lovie. 
 " We do want you. What should we do without 
 you ? " 
 
 " Him that wants me is gone," said Evans grimly. 
 " Other people can get along without me, I know 
 that well enough." 
 
 " Don't be a silly old man," observed Lovie, 
 counting her stitches. 
 
 " Her tone's changed considerable, has yer 
 aunt's," pursued Evans with unabated gloom. 
 " It's ' I'll ring when I want yer, Evans. Close the 
 door ' — and her sitting there with a letter in her 
 'and from the Front. You'd never think I'd served 
 'im close on forty years, the way I'm tret." 
 
 " You can't expect my aunt to read you her 
 letters," Lovie reminded him reprovingly. " We 
 all know how attached you were to my uncle, but 
 you must be reasonable, mustn't you ? " 
 
 " And ain't I reasonable ? " cried the old man 
 passionately. " Who in the whole world is there as 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 19 
 
 cares to 'ear about him like I care ? I see by the 
 look on her face she wasn't pleased about some- 
 thing. I know it so well, that look, it was always 
 there when he done something didn't suit her. But 
 it's cryin' shame that now he's dead and gone she 
 can't let him rest." 
 
 He paused, hopefully scanning Lovie's face for 
 confirmation of his random guess ; but she knitted 
 steadily on without making any reply. 
 
 *' I suppose it would be considered a liberty to ask 
 if there's any bad news ? " began Evans, respectfully 
 trying a new tack. 
 
 " There's no bad news," repUed Lovie, relenting 
 at the sight of his eager old face. " I'm sure my 
 aunt will tell you if there was anything in the letter 
 about my uncle that you would like to hear. I am 
 afraid you must not ask me any more." 
 
 " Thank you, miss," said Evans gratefully. " If 
 everybody had a kind 'eart like what you've got, 
 the world would 'a been a very different place for 
 me this last twenty years an' more. However, I 
 mustn't complain ; I still 'ave me job to do. The 
 last words he says to me, was, * And if I don't come 
 back, Evans,' he says, ' you will keep yer eye on 
 Master Bernard ; treat him the same as what you 
 'ave me,' he says, ' and I'll be satisfied.' " His 
 voice broke, and a sob choked in his throat. " God 
 o' Mercy," he groaned, as he ambled out of the 
 room, " to think that he's gorne, and me not there 
 to see to him ! " 
 
 It was nearly four o'clock before Mrs. Massingham 
 returned from her self-appointed mission. As her 
 
20 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 key rattled in the front door Lovie jumped up from 
 the letter she was writing ; and, thrusting the 
 missive hastily into the opening of her blouse, went 
 to meet her aunt in the hall. But, before a word was 
 spoken, the grim and austere expression on the lady's 
 face told its own tale. Something had gone wrong. 
 Aunt Margaret was very much annoyed. 
 
 " I expect you want some tea," said Lovie 
 tactfully. " Shall I ring for it to be taken into the 
 drawing-room, or perhaps it will be warmer in 
 here ? " 
 
 Her aunt followed her into the cosy dining-room, 
 and closed the door after her. 
 
 " Well ? " asked Lovie, perching herself on the 
 edge of the table. " What's the news ? Do tell 
 me." 
 
 " I don't know whether I ought to tell you," 
 began Mrs. Massingham severely. " However, since 
 you know so much, you may as well hear the rest. 
 Mr. Gouldsmith was most kind and cordial." 
 
 " You showed him the letter ? " 
 
 " Not at first," repHed Mrs. Massingham. " I 
 know so well what solicitors are, so secretive and 
 designing ; if I had told him what I had come for, 
 he would quite likely have refused to give me any 
 information at all." 
 
 " So what did you do ? " asked Lovie, with deep 
 interest. 
 
 " I do not, of course, understand anything about 
 business," said Mrs. Massingham, *' but I do know 
 that the chief, in fact the only real consideration 
 with women of a certain class is money ; and it 
 seemed to me that the simplest way to find out 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 21 
 
 whether your dear uncle had any affair of the kind, 
 or not, was to ascertain how much money he had 
 been spending lately." 
 
 " Quite," agreed Lovie intelligently. 
 
 " And so," continued Mrs. Massingham, with a 
 hint of pardonable pride in her voice, " I said, 
 without being in the least untruthful, which is, as 
 you know, a thing I have always detested, that there 
 were certain matters connected with his private 
 estate, and strictly between ourselves, which required 
 — adjusting ; and that it would help me to know how 
 much money had passed through their hands during 
 the past year. They do everything, so of course 
 they would know." 
 
 " And what did they say ? " demanded Lovie 
 with unabated interest. 
 
 " They showed me a book which I did not under- 
 stand in the least," replied her aunt. " But of 
 course I did not tell them that ; and, on glancing 
 down a page, my eye caught the figures £5,000. 
 ' What is that ? ' I asked Mr. Gouldsmith. ' Oh, 
 that,' he said, ' was some stock which we realised 
 for him about ten days prior to his departure for the 
 Front.' * And where is the money ? ' I asked. 
 * I don't know at all,' he said, * I have no idea. He 
 merely asked us to realise him that amount, and we 
 did so. He took it away from here in notes.' 
 
 " You may imagine my feelings, Lovie ! Five 
 thousand pounds gone, and nobody knows where ! 
 Needless to say, not a word was mentioned to me of 
 any such sum." Mrs. Massingham sighed bitterly. 
 " It speaks for itself." 
 
 Lovie sighed too. 
 
22 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 " It does, doesn't it ? " she said. 
 
 "It is the clearest and most appalHng evidence 
 one could possibly have that your dear uncle has 
 been in the hands of some designing and unscrupu- 
 lous woman ; and who that woman is I intend to find 
 out before I am very much older." 
 
 " I wonder if Bernard knows anything about it," 
 said Lovie thoughtfully. 
 
 *' I am quite sure he does not," said his mother, 
 " and I do not wish him to know. I must ask you, 
 Lovie, to promise me that you will say nothing about 
 it to him — or to anyone," she added as an after- 
 thought. 
 
 " Very well, if you wish it I won't," said Lovie. 
 " But ought he not to see the letter ? " 
 
 " Certainly he shall see the letter," said Mrs. 
 Massingham. " I myself will send him a copy of it, 
 missing out the part about — Grace. Or do you 
 think I ought to put in * Margaret ' instead ? " 
 
 " I think it's not — not quite nice to do either," 
 said Lovie. 
 
 " Indeed, and why not ? " inquired Mrs. Massing- 
 ham. " I do not wish to deceive the dear boy in any 
 way — such a thing is very far from my intention — 
 but I feel sure that his father would not care for 
 him to l^now about this — this person, to say nothing 
 of it being such a bad example for a young man. I 
 think I shall put * Margaret,' it will look better, and, 
 as you say, may very easily be the truth, con- 
 sidering that he was dehrious. Yes, I will put 
 ' Margaret ' instead. Please ring for tea, dear, I am 
 exhausted. Such a very trying day." 
 
 " What did Mr. Gouldsmith say when you showed 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 23 
 
 him the letter ? " asked Lovie, with her hand on the 
 bell. 
 
 Mrs. Massingham smiled, for the first time that 
 day. 
 
 " He was just a Httle annoyed," she replied. " He 
 told me I was a great deal cleverer than I looked." 
 
 " But how extremely rude of him ! " exclaimed 
 Lovie indignantly. 
 
 " No, dear," said Aunt Margaret with composure, 
 " I have never tried to look clever. I think it is a 
 mistake." 
 
24 LOOKING FOR GRACE .^ 
 
 — — ^ ^- 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 MRS. BURMESTER'S flat in Victoria 
 Street had become the centre of activity 
 for such of her friends as were absorbed 
 in war work ; those who were not had long ago been 
 scratched off her visiting Hst. Working parties were 
 held there three times a week ; amateur nurses 
 discussed themselves and their most interesting 
 cases over a cup of good China tea ; parcels of 
 tobacco for the boys at the Front, and offerings for 
 destitute Belgians arrived by every post ; and 
 almost any soldier or sailor in uniform might have 
 knocked at the door and obtained a hot bath at any 
 hour of the day or night. 
 
 Ever since she could remember, Sybil Burmester 
 had lived in a whirl of excitement, but this war was 
 the most exhilarating thing that had ever happened, 
 and she had thrown herself into it body and soul. 
 Her heart yearned over the wounded, it ached for the 
 poor things who were left behind, swelled with pride 
 for those in the fighting line, and even, but not very 
 frequently, found time to sympathise with those who 
 were prevented by their responsibilities at home from 
 joining the glorious throng across the water. 
 
 The few years of her married life had been spent in 
 India, under the exacting eye of a husband whose 
 jealousy was the only thing about him which really 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 25 
 
 interested her ; so that, when his death had released 
 her from a bondage which was beginning to grow 
 irksome, she had returned, with a buoyant heart 
 beating sedately under her crape, to estabHsh 
 herself in the heaven of her dreams — a nice little flat 
 in town. In a very few months her warm heart 
 and lack of conventionality had secured her a cheery 
 circle of friends, and, by the time she was able to 
 discard her weeds, and array herself radiantly after 
 her own heart, there was probably not a happier nor 
 a more popular little woman in London. Her name 
 was down on a dozen committees ; ambulance 
 classes, classes for invalid cookery, first aid and 
 other instructive subjects received her donations, 
 and her attendance when she could spare the time 
 to go to them ; and charitable organisations of 
 every kind found in her an able and enthusiastic 
 ally. 
 
 In three months from the time that war broke out 
 she had learned the name of almost every man who 
 mattered at the War Office, and secured intro- 
 ductions to most of those whom she thought might 
 be useful to her. She knew all the httle buttons, 
 medals, straps and other fixings by which the various 
 regiments were distinguished one from the other ; 
 tabs of coloured braid and cryptic embroideries were 
 no mystery to her, she understood what they meant. 
 The complexities of the new regulations with regard 
 to kit and equipment, the vagaries of uniforms, 
 which, to the eye of the uninitiated, appeared merely 
 to present all the essentials of opera burlesque — 
 all these things in no way abashed her. She could 
 tell you, at sight, the exact position of any man who 
 
26 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 wore the King's uniform ; and if by chance she 
 did not know it, the hall porter, he who worked the 
 lift to her flat, knew no peace until she did. 
 
 She had, moreover, an extraordinary faculty for 
 roping in any one who might be useful. People 
 who could knit were kept hard at it, and those who 
 could not, or would not, were sent on boring 
 expeditions to outlying districts to interview the 
 refractory wives of soldiers, or to investigate the 
 claims of those whose marriage certificates were not 
 fort>" coming. Anyone who had a letter from the 
 Front was a particular star in her firmament — 
 until some one else turned up with later news : upon 
 which they were promptly cast into the outer 
 darkness, but so cleverly that they seldom noticed 
 what had happened to them. 
 
 But all this running about and entertaining was 
 very expensive, and Mrs. Burmester was not at all 
 rich. She had a small pension, an J a smaller 
 annuity, but the two together did not, unfortunately, 
 cover what she considered to be the necessities of 
 life. It must be admitted at once that the furniture 
 of her flat had been acquired on the hire-purchase 
 system, and that she owed a great deal more money 
 than she had any reasonable hope of being able to 
 pay. There was, however, a certain frankness and 
 candour about her which disarmed even her severest 
 critics ; and, as she was supported by a host of 
 women friends, and further vouched for by relations 
 of undoubted integrity, her position was not in the 
 least precarious, and she floated easily on the crest 
 of her personal popularity, without, apparently, a 
 care in the world. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 27 
 
 She was a girlish looking woman of under thirty, 
 with merry hazel eyes, and such delightful teeth 
 that she smiled at almost anything ; and she could 
 hardly have counted on her slim, well-manicured 
 little fingers the men who would have made love to 
 her if she had given them the opportunity. 
 
 It so happened that the same mail which brought 
 the flabbergasting letter to Mrs. Massingham, at 
 Blackheath, brought also a budget of news to the 
 flat in Victoria Street from the Front : a couple of 
 postcards with the glad tidings that the writers were 
 top-hole, and half a dozen grimy pencilled notes 
 containing commissions of a wide and varied 
 character. By four o'clock that afternoon most of 
 the desired articles had already been despatched to 
 France, and Mrs. Burmester, a httle tired, but 
 cheerful withal, was taking a much needed cup of 
 tea, surrounded by a few kindred souls who had 
 turned up to discuss the events of the day. 
 
 " You see, Arthur must have his boots at once," 
 she was saying, " because goodness knows where he 
 may be next week. And perhaps you had better 
 get them, Elsie, where you got the last — proper 
 fisherman's boots, remember, and tell them to be 
 sure the leather part is nicely greased. I will see 
 about the soap for Captain Hayes, and the Service 
 Pocket Book for young Antrobus, because I know 
 they are running very short of those and it may be 
 difficult to get ; I shall have to wheedle one out of 
 the man in the book department. Fortunately he's 
 quite a nice youth and will do anything for me." 
 
 " And wheedle one for Tom, too," said Elsie 
 Oliver, an eager looking little woman in a velvet 
 
28 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 cap. " I daresay your young man would rise to a 
 couple of them." 
 
 " Quite easily," replied Mrs. Burmester, busy 
 making notes in her memorandum book. " What 
 else does Tom say ? You haven't told me." 
 
 " If I could only get a word in edgeways I would," 
 laughed Mrs. Oliver, diving into her little bag and 
 producing a handful of crumpled notepaper. " It 
 was a lovely letter, quite the best I've had since he 
 went away ; what I call a natural letter, not all 
 tender inquiries as to how I feel, cheering me up 
 and all that, but a good old growl, darling thing. 
 You remember he wrote for me to send him some 
 brilliantine last week, and of course I dashed off and 
 got it at once. I generally register ; very expensive, 
 but they do get them that way, and if one doesn't 
 goodness knows where they go to. However, this 
 parcel, what with one thing and another, was rather 
 large and I did not register it, and, of course, it went 
 astray. 
 
 " He's dreadfully annoyed, the pet. Where is it ? 
 Here we are. Just listen to this ! 
 
 "'I do think,' he says, *it's rather hard that 
 when I ask for a simple little thing like brilliantine 
 I can't get it. One has quite enough out here to put 
 up with, I can tell you ; you little know, and I hope 
 you never will, what a hell it is — the scenes I come 
 across every day are enough to drive one mad ; and 
 I can't help feeling that the least you can do is to 
 send me along my brilliantine, especially when you 
 know so well what my hair is hke without it.' Of 
 course," explained his wife, * his poor head is like 
 a porcupine without something to keep it tidy, but 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 29 
 
 fancy bothering about it ! And yet they say that 
 women are vain ! " 
 
 "It is the right spirit," said Mrs. Burmester 
 firmly. " Let him have his hair- oil. I will send him 
 some myself, for a present, something rather 
 special." 
 
 She scribbled hastily in her Uttle book, " briUian- 
 tine for Tom," then, closing it with an air of finaHty, 
 she turned to a tired looking, well-dressed girl in the 
 corner by the fireplace. 
 
 " Muriel, darling," she cooed, " can you do any- 
 thing for a real dinkey little Belgian officer ? I 
 want to find him a home. Flying Corps. A 
 perfectly charming uniform, only very, very slightly 
 wounded in the calf, nothing really to matter at all — 
 and such eyes ! " 
 
 " Sounds rather alluring," admitted Muriel lan- 
 guidly. " Where is he ? Trot him out for in- 
 spection." 
 
 ** At present he's staying at the Victoria," 
 explained Mrs. Burmester. " Colonel Sandys is 
 paying his bill there, but only for a few days, because 
 it is so very expensive. He says that after Saturday 
 he will not pay another farthing. So do take him in, 
 there's a darling, just for a week, until I see what can 
 be done with him." 
 
 " I should rather like to have a look at him first," 
 demurred Muriel cautiously. " What's he like — 
 the usual thing, I suppose, fat, and utterly in- 
 coherent ? " 
 
 " Oh, far from it, very far from that ! " cried Mrs. 
 Burmester eagerly. " He's quite slim, and speaks 
 EngUsh with the sweetest Httle Hsp. As a matter 
 
 c 
 
30 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 of fact, he is extremely fascinating or I would have 
 taken him in myself, but you know what people are to 
 talk. However, your dear old Bertie is so good- 
 natured that I am sure he would not mind your 
 having him. I did so want him to be here this after- 
 noon for you all to see, but Colonel Sandys rang up 
 that he might be coming round, and, of course, it 
 would never do for them to meet after what 
 happened." 
 
 " You haven't told us yet what did happen," 
 suggested Elsie. 
 
 " No," said Mrs. Burmester, " I haven't, have I ? 
 Well, as a matter of fact, there was a slight mis- 
 understanding, and the old man is so dreadfully 
 prejudiced against him that he refuses to speak to 
 him again. Actually, he was staying with the 
 Sandys in Lancaster Gate, and they liked him very 
 much indeed, until they caught him trying to kiss 
 Aileen, who, after all, is only fifteen." 
 
 " The fiend ! " exclaimed everybody. " What 
 ingratitude ! " 
 
 " Yes, wasn't it ? However, they forgave him 
 that, and the next thing was the parlourmaid. 
 What happened I do not quite know, but it appears 
 that the girl got nervous in the middle of the night, 
 and Colonel Sandys heard screams and yells, and 
 went to see what was the matter. Monsieur Beige 
 also went to see ; and between them — well, I don't 
 know, my dears. I always said that girl was far too 
 pretty. At any rate, the result was, that the next 
 morning the young man packed up his bags and 
 transferred himself to the Victoria. He comes here 
 nearly every day and tells me how upset he is. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 31 
 
 Yesterday he threw himself on to his knees and burst 
 into tears on my lap. I quite thought for the moment 
 that he was proposing. However, at last I got him 
 calmed, and he borrowed half a sovereign and went 
 away quite happy." 
 
 " Sybil dear," said Muriel, " I think he sounds too 
 emotional for our quiet household. As you say, 
 Bertie is very good-natured, but if he came in and 
 found your dinkey little ofhcer with his head on my 
 lap there would be bloodshed, I know." 
 
 Mrs. Burmester threw out her hands with a 
 gesture of despair. 
 
 " Then will somebody tell me what on earth I am 
 to do with him ? " she cried. *' Only three days 
 more. Elsie, won't you take him ? " 
 
 " No, darling, I will not," replied Elsie, pulHng on 
 her gloves with great firmness. 
 
 " Captain Drake," intoned a voice from the door- 
 way, and a tall man in khaki entered the room. 
 
 ** Oh, how do you do ? " cried Mrs. Burmester, 
 casting her Belgian to the four winds. " How sweet 
 of you to come. You know everybody here, I think ? 
 Yes, of course. And you are longing for some tea, 
 or would you rather have whisky and soda ? " 
 
 The entrance of a man into a roomful of women 
 has invariably the same result : they all sit up and 
 begin to look interesting. Those whose metier it is 
 to yearn, begin at once to yearn gently from their 
 corners ; those of haughty mien — with a profile — 
 turn their heads sideways and look indifferent. The 
 fussy ones begin prettily to fuss, the clever ones to 
 talk ; and those who are too old, or too ugly to do 
 anything, relapse into wistful silence. The whole 
 
32 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 atmosphere of the room is changed, and that in less 
 time than it takes the Lord of Creation to find a 
 chair for himself. 
 
 Captain Drake was what used, before the war, to 
 be known as a typical army officer : a well-bred, 
 immaculate looking man, with the mild and in- 
 nocuous expression usually cultivated by those 
 whose business it is to shed blood. Quite the most 
 arresting thing about him was the monocle which he 
 wore in his right eye. It seemed, somehow, to 
 efface the rest of his individuality, to obliterate 
 everything excepting the bare fact that he belonged 
 to the Service. It was a mask, behind which the 
 real man himself lay concealed ; but the other eye 
 was quite effective, being of that shade of reddish 
 brown which speaks so eloquently for itself. He 
 advanced into the room with an air of polite 
 deference, which gave his tunic just the right hitch 
 in the middle of his back, and deposited himself 
 precariously on the music-stool. 
 
 ** I have a message from my mother," he began, 
 carefully balancing a large piece of cake on the edge 
 of a very small saucer. 
 
 " My conscience smites me," said Mrs. Burmester. 
 " I have never answered her last letter." 
 
 " Evidently she has forgiven you, or forgotten 
 your misdeeds," went on Captain Drake smoothly, 
 "for I am to ask you a favour. Will you go on a 
 committee at Blackheath ? They require the help 
 of a lady of ripe experience and unbounded tact in 
 handling a most dehcate undertaking." 
 
 " I recognise myself at once," laughed Sybil. 
 " But what is the committee f or ? " 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 33 
 
 " What is it f or ? " Captain Drake looked evasively 
 at his teacup. " As far as I can understand, it's a 
 scheme got up by a lot of dear old ladies to supervise 
 the morals of the British soldier. The idea is, I 
 believe, to protect them from the importunities of 
 the other sex." 
 
 " Protect a soldier ! " exclaimed Elsie. " What 
 next ? I never yet met one who was not perfectly 
 able to look after himself. It's the poor girls who 
 want protecting." 
 
 " That is also part of the great scheme," said 
 Captain Drake. " It appears that sweethearts, 
 wives, and other impedimenta are inclined to hang 
 around the camps after dark, thereby causing serious 
 breaches of regulations and imperilling their own 
 reputations ; and the ladies of Blackheath have 
 conceived the notion of instituting some sort of 
 patrol work to — put a spoke in, and generally to see 
 that everybody behaves themselves." 
 
 Sybil stared incredulously at him. " It's a most 
 alluring programme," she remarked, " but where do 
 I come in ? What am I supposed to do ? " 
 
 " The drawback appears to be," said Captain 
 Drake, " that, although everybody has the best 
 intentions, nobody knows how to begin. My 
 mother was hoping that you would give them the 
 benefit of your varied experience in charitable 
 undertakings." 
 
 " Muriel," said Mrs. Burmester helplessly, " have 
 you ever known me to haunt the camps after dark in 
 search of improprieties ? " 
 
 " No, darling," replied Muriel pensively, " I 
 haven't." 
 
34 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 " Oh, I say," objected Captain Drake hastily, 
 " you quite misunderstand me. The whole thing is 
 extremely proper, don't you know. It's merely a 
 sort of polite vigilance society, formed by the ladies 
 of Blackheath. All you have to do is " 
 
 " I am certainly not going to do it," interposed 
 Sybil quickly and with much resolution. " Please 
 tell your mother that I think it is so kind of her to ask 
 me, but that my time is already so fully occupied that 
 I do not feel I can possibly undertake anything else. 
 Blackheath, too, and amongst a lot of squabbling 
 old tabbies ! No, thank you, I know them." 
 
 " This is very disappointing," said Captain 
 Drake amiably. " I shall be up at the W.O. to- 
 morrow, and I had fondly hoped to induce you to 
 lunch with me and go to Blackheath under my escort 
 in the afternoon." 
 
 " Thank you so much. Nothing doing," said 
 Mrs. Burmester sweetly. " But wait a minute," she 
 added, with a brilliant afterthought ; "if I do some- 
 thing for you, will you do something for me ? " 
 
 Captain Drake smiled blankly at her with his 
 glass eye, but the other one looked very promising. 
 
 " I decline to be drawn into an invidious situation," 
 he said cautiously. " What do you want me to do ? '* 
 
 " Find a home for my Httle Belgian refugee," 
 replied Sybil, with composure. 
 
 "Is she pretty ? " he inquired. 
 
 " It's a man," said Sybil, " an officer in the 
 Flying Corps, who is over here slightly wounded. 
 Very good family, speaks EngHsh, most affectionate 
 disposition. Get your mother to invite him there 
 for a week and I'll go on your committee." ^ 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 35 
 
 " I say, look here," protested Captain Drake, 
 " I really can't inflict him on my people. As it is, 
 we are crowded out with relations and people staying 
 the night to say good-bye to chaps quartered there. 
 And, as a matter of fact, this Vigilance Society is 
 not my mother's scheme at all ; it emanates from 
 Blackheath, and I beHeve the president is Mrs. 
 Wilfred Massingham. If anybody is to pay for 
 your good services, she's the lady to ask." 
 
 '* Ask her then," said Sybil promptly, " and if she 
 says yes, 'phone me up and I'll be there — wherever 
 it is — to-morrow afternoon. I shall take him along 
 with me." 
 
 Captain Drake sighed. " Won't you ask her 
 yourself ? " he said plaintively. " You know her, 
 don't you ? " 
 
 " I knew him quite well, he was a sort of relation, 
 I believe," said Mrs. Burmester. " He often used 
 to trot in and see me when he was up at the War 
 Office. Poor old man, I was so sorry to hear of his 
 death. But I never remember meeting her. I had 
 an idea they didn't get on. What is she like ? " 
 
 " To-morrow afternoon you shall judge for your- 
 self," repHed Captain Drake with resignation. " I 
 will go there on my way home and induce her to 
 adopt Monsieur — you have not told me his name." 
 
 " Lieutenant Adolphe Grimaux." 
 
 " Monsieur Grimaux. And if she won't ? " 
 
 " Oh, but she will," said Mrs. Burmester per- 
 suasively. " She can be a mother to him, it is just 
 what he needs — a nice, kind woman to look after 
 him. Thank goodness, he is off my hands at last." 
 
36 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 IT was the afternoon of the next day. The 
 drawing-room fire had been Hghted at two 
 o'clock instead of at three, in order that the 
 apartment might be thoroughly warmed for the 
 meeting to be held there at four. Tea, instead of 
 being laid on the little table near the sofa, was 
 arranged on a larger one by the door : ten cups and 
 saucers, two plates of bread and butter, nicely 
 rolled, and a varied assortment of cakes, biscuits, and 
 buns. Evans, moreover, had brushed his hair — 
 what there was of it — with water, so that it lay flat 
 on his head ; it was evident that company was 
 expected. 
 
 At five minutes to four Mrs. Massingham entered 
 the room in her black silk dress, and took up a 
 position on a chair which commanded the situation, 
 and at the same time might be relied upon not to 
 creak, wobble, or otherwise disconcert its occupant. 
 
 " Not that I really approve of the idea," she was 
 saying to Lovie, who was toasting a slim foot at the 
 fire. " I have lent the drawing-room and I shall, of 
 course, do all that I can to help Louisa. She was so 
 good about my bazaar for the Orphanage that it 
 would be indeed ungrateful not to do so. But I 
 must admit that I do not see the sense in interfering 
 with a matter about which we know nothing at all. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 37 
 
 I should have thought that the mihtary authorities 
 were quite capable of managing their own affairs." 
 
 " Monty Drake seems keen on it, and he ought to 
 know," said Lovie. 
 
 " Why this sudden interest on Montague's part, 
 I do not know," remarked Mrs. Massingham. " It 
 was only the other day that he was ridiculing the 
 whole thing. The way he spoke to your Aunt 
 Louisa I thought extremely disrespectful, but she 
 never managed her boys as I consider boys ought 
 to be managed. However, Montague is much 
 improved since his return from India ; yesterday 
 afternoon, I must confess, he behaved very nicely 
 indeed." 
 
 " He always behaves nicely if he wants any- 
 thing," laughed Lovie. 
 
 *' Most persuasive he was, I could not find it in my 
 heart to refuse him. I only hope this young Belgian 
 gentleman is all he declares him to be." 
 
 " Even if he is not, we can stand him for a week," 
 said Lovie patriotically. 
 
 " It will be nice for you to practise your French," 
 observed her aunt. " Did you see that his room was 
 ready ? " 
 
 " Yes. it's all ready. I told them to light a fire ; 
 it seemed a little chilly after not having been used for 
 some time." 
 
 *' Not quite necessary, dear," said Mrs. Massing- 
 ham, " although I wish to do everything to make 
 him comfortable, poor young man : it will indeed be 
 a luxury for him to stay in a real EngUsh home. 
 Foreigners, however well-connected they may be, do 
 not understand comfort as we do. I was once at 
 
38 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 Ostend with your dear uncle, and a more deplorable 
 bedroom than we had it would be difficult to imagine. 
 No carpet on the floor ! And the looking-glass ! 
 and the absurd washing-stand ! How thankful I 
 was to get home again I shall never forget." 
 
 " Who is this Mrs. Burmester ? " inquired Lovie 
 idly. " A sort of half-cousin of the Drakes, isn't 
 she ? " 
 
 '* By marriage only," replied Mrs. Massingham. 
 " I know very little about her, and that not 
 altogether to her credit. However, it does not do to 
 be uncharitable. I remember, when her husband 
 died, about a year ago, your Aunt Louisa suggested 
 that she should make her home with them, which 
 would have been a much more suitable arrangement 
 for a young widow than a flat in Victoria Street. 
 However, she thought differently. I hear she is very 
 clever and amusing, and quite popular, although, 
 personally, I do not like this modern pose which so 
 many women adopt, running about from morning 
 till night." 
 
 " At any rate," said Lovie hopefully, *' she will be 
 able to tell us the best way to go to work ; Monty 
 seems to place great confidence in her." 
 
 " Montague was always impressionable," remarked 
 Mrs. Massingham coldly. " His recommendation 
 does not go very far with me ; I have seen too many 
 young persons in whom he placed confidence." 
 
 The toot of a motor horn, as a car turned into the 
 carriage drive, put an end to any further reflections 
 on the character and morals of Captain Drake ; and, 
 half an hour later, the room was filled with sedate 
 but business-like looking ladies intent on the praise- 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 39 
 
 worthy undertaking which had brought them 
 together that afternoon. 
 
 As is so often the case, she who knew least about 
 her subject had the most to say : indeed, Miss 
 Manson, a gaunt and unprepossessing female in the 
 most unbecoming clothes it is possible to conceive, 
 could hardly talk fast enough. Her raucous voice 
 proclaimed her in full song, her bony forefinger 
 emphasised the point of her remarks with the 
 fervour of one whose heart is " right there." 
 
 " My anxiety is not so much for the women who 
 are disgracing our sex," she said, " although one 
 must not be blind to our duty towards the poor 
 things, and no doubt many of them are honestly 
 engaged to the men whom they so persistently 
 molest. No. I feel that our duty is mainly to- 
 wards the brave fellows who are preparing to defend 
 their country, many of them at great personal 
 sacrifice. Everything we can do to make their lives 
 happier and better ought to be done, and, in remov- 
 ing the temptation of these women who haunt the 
 camps, we are helping them morally and physically 
 in the most practical way." 
 
 " But how do you propose to remove them ? " 
 asked Mrs. Massingham sensibly. " There are 
 regulations, I feel sure, which deal with such 
 matters." 
 
 " Regulations or no regulations, you know what 
 girls are," said Miss Manson. *' But I do not propose 
 to trouble myself with the fooHsh creatures ; I have 
 had too much experience in dealing with them, and 
 too many disappointments. Young women with 
 whom I have taken no end of pains have proved so 
 
40 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 ungrateful and so deceitful that I am convinced it is 
 useless to try and imbue them with a sense of 
 responsibility. I have a better scheme than that." 
 She looked from one stolid face to another, her hard, 
 bright eyes gUstening with excitement. * ' My idea, 
 she said with the triumphant air of one who has 
 overcome all difficulties, "is to amuse the men.'* 
 The chilly silence which greeted her courageous 
 programme would have daunted a less ardent soul, 
 but Miss Manson, now thoroughly into her stride, 
 continued with unabated enthusiasm. " We will 
 entertain them, fill up their leisure hours with 
 harmless and health-giving occupations, and, in 
 that way gradually wean their thoughts away from 
 the subject. Do you not agree with me, Louisa ? " 
 
 Mrs. Drake, a comfortable, well-satisfied old lady, 
 replied that she did indeed, but that human nature 
 being what it was, she feared that stronger measures 
 would be necessary to save the dear things from 
 themselves. " How, for instance," she asked, " do 
 you propose to make them attend your entertain- 
 ments ? " 
 
 " They will come if they have nothing else to do," 
 asserted Miss Manson with unconscious candour. 
 " We must, of course, get some sort of official status, 
 some authority from the Officer Commanding, 
 which will not be a difficult matter, as Colonel 
 Masterson is a cousin of my brother's wife's first 
 husband. I propose, in the first place, to institute 
 a kind of organised patrol : two of us will take duty 
 each evening after, say, eight o'clock. We will wear 
 a neat little badge, quite unpretentious, and, of 
 course, a suitable coat, dark if possible. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 41 
 
 " We must for the present, I think, confine our- 
 selves to the camp at Alton Park, since that is where 
 most of the mischief seems to originate. We shall 
 merely stroll round with our eyes open, and if we 
 see any young women loitering about, it will be our 
 duty to, very tactfully, induce them to go away. If 
 they refuse, we have the authority of the O. C. to 
 back us up. It will very soon be recognised that 
 nothing is to be gained by resisting us, and they will 
 betake themselves to a more convenient meeting- 
 place. Then, when the ground is practically clear, 
 and all temptation removed from the men, we shall, 
 very tactfully, announce a series of simple concerts, 
 lectures and so on, in a suitable tent, or something of 
 the kind. The men will flock to them, and we shall 
 gradually reduce the evil which is causing us all so 
 much anxiety." 
 
 Mrs. Drake looked dubious. She had not been 
 the wife and mother of soldiers for over thirty years 
 without learning something of their attitude towards 
 those who would seek to do them good. 
 
 " I hoped that Sybil Burmester would have been 
 here by this time," she remarked plaintively. " She 
 is so clever, and has been doing so much lately in 
 these matters, that she would be able to tell us 
 what is the usual course to take. I quite think that 
 something ought to be done : it would be so nice to 
 feel that, instead of wasting their time, the men 
 were learning French, which might be so useful to 
 them later, or even having a Httle pleasant evening 
 amongst themselves. It is not as though they were 
 ordinary Tommies ; they are, most of them, young 
 men who are accustomed to a certain amount of 
 
42 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 freedom, and their position, shut up in a camp all 
 the evening, is naturally irksome. I do feel deeply 
 that something ought to be done for them, but what 
 that something is, I confess I do not yet see." 
 
 ** I should like to say," began Mrs. Massingham, 
 ** that I, for one, would not care to undertake any 
 patrol work such as AHce has described. I do not 
 feel competent to do anything of the kind. I have 
 certainly a sense of responsibihty towards the men 
 who are quartered in this district, and I will gladly 
 do anything in my power to help them ; but patrol 
 round their camp after dark, with a little badge on, 
 I shall certainly not. It would be most repugnant 
 to me." 
 
 Miss Manson's features extended themselves in a 
 painful smile, the smile of the poor relation who yet 
 refuses to be trampled upon. 
 
 '* No one expects you to do so, my dear Margaret," 
 she said. " All we shall ask of you is your influence, 
 and a Httle help in raising the money which will be 
 needed to provide the concerts, etc. As you know, 
 I am not able to help in that way, but I shall be 
 quite willing to undertake the patrol work, and to 
 do my share of the entertaining ; there are several 
 sensible women who will gladly assist me in that, 
 and if Louisa, as she has kindly suggested, will be 
 president " 
 
 Aunt Margaret bridled slightly. 
 
 " I understood that I was the president," she said. 
 " Not that it matters, of course " 
 
 " Just as you like, dear," said Mrs. Drake. ** I 
 quite thought from what we said at our first meeting 
 that I was to take that position. However, I " 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 43 
 
 " Please do not let me interfere with any arrange- 
 ments that may have been made," said Aunt 
 Margaret with amiable acidity. " All I wish is " 
 
 " Mrs. Burmester," announced Evans in the door- 
 way. 
 
 All heads were turned as that lady floated into the 
 midst of the assembly, full of apologies and pretty 
 excuses. 
 
 " I am so terribly la^e," she exclaimed regretfully. 
 " We lost our train. I do hope I have not missed 
 your interesting discussion. May I introduce Mon- 
 sieur Grimaux, whom you have so kindly invited to 
 stay with you ? " 
 
 Everybody looked with interest at the picturesque 
 figure of the httle Belgian officer as he chcked his 
 heels together, and, oblivious of the outstretched 
 hand of his hostess, bowed himself low before her. 
 
 " Madame ! " he murmured into the carpet. 
 
 Mrs. Massingham, not to be outdone in politeness, 
 made him a stately inclination of her head. 
 
 " I am pleased you are able to come," she said with 
 stiff formality. 
 
 " Mille merci, madame," said Monsieur Grimaux ; 
 " vous ^tes bien gentille." 
 
 Mrs. Massingham turned with panic in her eye to 
 his sponsor. 
 
 " He speaks English ? " she inquired in an audible 
 aside. 
 
 " Oh, perfectly," said Sybil, with rather more 
 assurance than she felt. 
 
 " Parfaitement," repeated the Httle man non- 
 chalantly. " I spik Engleesh good. All right. 
 How do you do ? " 
 
44 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 The entrance of Sybil and her young man con- 
 siderably altered the tone of the party. She had so 
 much to say, and said it with such an airy uncon- 
 sciousness of herself, such a pleasing cordiality 
 towards everybody else, that she speedily disarmed 
 the criticism which had risen like a hydra-headed 
 monster at the sight of her jaunty httle Paris hat and 
 too expensive fur coat. She Hstened with engaging 
 deference to Aunt Margaret's explanation of the 
 Society and its aims, agreed affably with Miss 
 Manson as to the necessity of vigilant patrol work, 
 and with Aunt Louisa about the deplorable in- 
 difference of the British male on the subject of his 
 soul's welfare. She sipped her tea and nibbled her 
 biscuit with an attentive ear for everybody and a 
 flattering smile of acquiescence for every suggestion ; 
 and if in her glancing eye there lurked a hint of 
 mischief at the sight of her dinkey little lieutenant, 
 already twirling his moustache and rolHng his eyes 
 at Lovie, nobody noticed it. 
 
 " It all sounds delightful," she said, " and I am 
 sure everybody will be very grateful to you for 
 undertaking such a diilicult work. Personally, 
 although I should love to help, I am afraid my name 
 will be little more than a cipher on your committee 
 — my days are already so full, not a moment to call 
 my own. But put me down, by all means, and if I 
 can do anything, do, please, say so. Would an old 
 draught-board be of any use, or one of those nice and 
 quite inexpensive puzzles with a little silver ball you 
 have to roll into Berlin ? " 
 
 For over an hour everybody talked, explained and 
 argued. The subject was discussed from every 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 45 
 
 point of view, but with a discursiveness and an 
 irrelevance of detail which left it in very much the 
 same position as it had been at the beginning of the 
 meeting. There were two or three women in the 
 room, from their appearance merely inanimate 
 bundles of expensive clothes, who took Httle part in 
 the proceedings ; their brains from long-continued 
 disuse had atrophied, so that they neither knew 
 nor cared very much what was going on around 
 them. 
 
 They had been invited on the strength of their 
 husband's banking accounts, and their cheques 
 would be forthcoming at the appointed time. 
 Nothing further was expected of them, and they 
 reaHsed it ; but the knowledge did not humihate 
 them in the smallest degree, because money was, to 
 them, the most important thing in the world, and, 
 in the possession of it, they sat serenely conscious of 
 their own value. Such women are the basis of all 
 philanthropic endeavour, the fount of all charity — 
 they are the backbone of England. 
 
 Mrs. Drake was the first to go. Only good-nature 
 and a desire not to be left out of anything which was 
 going on had taken her there ; and she was as 
 bored as, with her kind, human heart, it was possible 
 for her to be. 
 
 *' May I give you a Hft to the station, Sybil 
 dear ? " she asked as she rose, a dumpy little figure 
 in the tweed suit of last winter. 
 
 " Oh, please ! " rephed Sybil eagerly. " That 
 will be kind, if it is not taking you out of your way. 
 Good-bye, dear Mrs. Massingham, it is so truly noble 
 of you to have Monsieur Grimaux here. I do hope 
 
 D 
 
46 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 you will like him ; I am sure Colonel Sandys will be 
 grateful when I tell him what a delightful home his 
 protege is in." 
 
 " Good-bye," said Mrs. Massingham, shaking 
 hands in her stiff, wooden manner. " You must 
 come and see me again some day." 
 
 " And you must come and see me," said Mrs. 
 Burmester effusively. " Just 'phone through when 
 you are up in town, and let me know when to expect 
 you, because I am always out. Double four, 
 double eight, one, Victoria. I shall look forward to 
 seeing you. Good-bye." 
 
 Monsieur Grimaux was gazing across the room at 
 her with entreaty in his beautiful brown eyes ; he 
 had not got on so fast with Lovie as from her 
 engaging manners one might have expected. 
 
 " Au revoir, Monsieur Grimaux," she cried gaily, 
 waving a white kid glove in his direction. " Mind 
 you be a good boy ! " 
 
 The young man threw her a glance of comic 
 despair. 
 
 " Pourquoi pas ? " he said. " I shall be a little 
 angel, I feel it." 
 
 " Why not come back with me and have some 
 dinner ? " suggested Mrs. Drake, as the car sped 
 towards the station. " Monty will drive you home 
 afterwards." 
 
 And Sybil, ever ready for entertainment, accepted 
 the invitation with alacrity : a drive home with 
 Monty through the darkened streets of London 
 promised to be a most attractive programme. Nor 
 was she disappointed. After a cheerful, noisy meal 
 at the Drakes' house he brought round the car, and, 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 47 
 
 taking the wheel himself, steered cautiously down 
 the drive and into the road. 
 
 London, in those Zeppelin-haunted days, was a 
 dingy city. The lamps were shrouded in black, and 
 only an occasional glimmer of light filtered through 
 the open shop doors. People on the pavements 
 hurried on their different ways, dodging each other 
 in the dim obscurity ; motor-cars crawled pre- 
 cariously along, feehng their way and hooting every 
 few yards ; and even the buses — what were left of 
 them — careered over the slippery roadway with 
 something less than their usual impetuosity. In 
 the dreary, interminable streets through which they 
 had to pass to reach Victoria, there were stretches of 
 inky gloom where not a light was to be seen. It was 
 indeed a city of fear, a depressing spectacle for the 
 proud and free-born Briton. 
 
 And above it all, shooting across the great, dark 
 dome of heaven, powerful searchlights shed their 
 reveahng beams, moving slowly and cautiously 
 from side to side, halting for a moment on a church 
 steeple, then swinging with gigantic strides across 
 the firmament to dip again behind the houses. 
 
 But Sybil and her young man were by this time 
 too well accustomed to the sight of London under 
 war conditions to find anything of special interest in 
 their surroundings ; like every one else, they were 
 tired of speculating when, or if, the mighty Zep- 
 pelins would come ; and, as the pace at which they 
 were obliged to drive made conversation between 
 them possible, they soon became absorbed in them- 
 selves and each other like sensible young people. 
 
 " What makes me so sick," said Monty, " is that 
 
48 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 every little blighter who joins is getting out, and I 
 am stuck here at home." 
 
 Sybil agreed with him that it was awfully hard 
 hnes. 
 
 " Chaps come home from all ends of the earth," 
 he continued plaintively, " rejoin their old regiments, 
 or apply for new commissions, and streak off to the 
 Front ; before you can turn round they're in the 
 casualty lists. And here am I, working like a 
 nigger from dawn till dark, drilling recruits and 
 licking drafts into shape to send them over, and I 
 myself get left every time ! " 
 
 Again Sybil comforted him with soft words. It 
 was indeed rough that he should not figure in the 
 casualty lists nor nestle in the mud of the trenches. 
 Fate was using him very badly ; but there was 
 always hope that better luck might be in store for 
 him ; the day might yet come when he should be 
 scattered to the four winds by a bursting shell, or 
 Hmp home on frost-bitten feet with his arm in a 
 sling. 
 
 " You're a most understanding woman," said 
 Monty. " Don't you ever feel lonely hving by 
 yourself ? " 
 
 Sybil thought a moment. 
 
 " There are worse things than loneliness," she said 
 slowly. 
 
 " As ? " he suggested. 
 
 " Boredom," she replied. " Do you know what it 
 is to be bored all day and all night, till your mind 
 becomes an apathetic blank, and all your bones 
 ache ? " 
 
 Monty laughed, a short chuckle almost to himself. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 49 
 
 '' Can't say I do/' he answered, " it doesn't 
 sound very cheerful. Did old Burmester bore you 
 like that ? " 
 
 *' Yes, he did," she said, " but it wasn't his fault, 
 poor old dear." 
 
 " From all I've heard of him I think he must have 
 been a selfish old brute," said Monty. " He had no 
 business to marry you, at his age." 
 
 " Why not ? " she asked simply. " I had to 
 marry somebody. When mother died I felt so 
 miserable, it was awful being left alone ; I was only 
 too thankful that somebody loved me." 
 
 " And did you love him ? But perhaps I oughtn't 
 to ask you that ; don't tell me if you'd rather not." 
 
 " No," said Sybil, " I didn't love him, but I liked 
 him to love me — until I got tired of it. After that 
 I tried to be as kind to him as I could." She sighed 
 pensively. " Sometimes it was rather difficult. I 
 don't think he wanted me to be kind to him ; it used 
 to make him furious." 
 
 " He must have been very hard to please," said 
 Monty emphatically, " your kindness would not 
 have that effect on me." 
 
 She smiled to herself at his adroitness. 
 
 " Wouldn't it ? " she said lightly. " Some day I 
 must try it, and see what the effect is." 
 
 " No, don't," said Monty hastily, " it would be 
 fatal. I should lose my head and propose to you." 
 
 " There would be nothing fatal about that," 
 remarked Sybil heartlessly. 
 
 ** For me there would," he answered gravely. 
 " I should hate a woman to refuse me ; in fact I 
 shouldn't propose to her until I felt practically sure 
 
50 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 she would have me. I can't understand these men 
 who badger girls into marrying them." 
 
 *' But how would you know ? " Sybil asked him 
 curiously. 
 
 " Very easily," he said ; ** if we didn't understand 
 each other well enough for that, there would be no 
 point in getting married." 
 
 Sybil pondered over this for a moment. " I don't 
 think women always know whether they love a man 
 or not until he asks them," she said wisely. 
 
 " Mine will," said Monty with conviction. " I'm 
 talking of real love, not the other thing we all know 
 about. There's a confusion of ideas on the subject, 
 but to my mind it's all perfectly clear." 
 
 Sybil's eyes were shining at him in the half-light. 
 " My poor Monty," she said kindly, " you'll come an 
 awful cropper one of these days ! " 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 51 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 EVEN the best of girls behave badly some- 
 times, especially when they are in love ; 
 and it must be admitted that Lovie is not 
 going to shine in this chapter. It is a curious 
 reflection that Love, in itself so beautiful and sacred 
 an emotion, should invariably carry in its train 
 those much less desirable human attributes of secrecy 
 and deception. Intrigue seems to be inseparable 
 from it. Indeed, it is said by those who know best 
 that half the delight of making love lies in making 
 fools of other people ; but, if that is so, it is a 
 lamentable aspect of human nature upon which we 
 will not dwell, and a tenet to which no nice girl 
 would for a moment subscribe. Certainly not 
 Lovie, who was candour itself, or had been until she 
 espied the apple and listened to the beguiling voice 
 of the serpent who lies in wait for all young women. 
 Many anxious hours had she spent during the 
 past week, arguing with herself, making plans and 
 breaking them again, her conscience protesting, her 
 brains excusing, in the bewildering manner familiar 
 to us all when we try to be good at the expense of 
 our natural feelings. But there seemed to be nothing 
 else for it ; Aunt Margaret would have to be 
 deceived, that is to say, she must be kept in the dark 
 
52 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 for the present. It would never do for her to know 
 about Bernard, because there was more than a 
 probabihty that she would rabidly disapprove of an 
 engagement between them ; and, if she did so, how 
 could things go on as they were ? 
 
 How would it be possible for Lovie and her to 
 continue living in the same affectionate relationship 
 together ? It would mean upbraidings, reproaches, 
 an upheaval of their tranquil life. Lovie would 
 have to go away and stay with some other relations, 
 and poor Aunt Margaret would be left alone just at 
 the time when she most needed the comfort and 
 support of the only niece whom she really liked — 
 which would be unkind. Either that, or it meant 
 giving up all idea of marrying Bernard — which was 
 absurd. Decidedly there was nothing to be gained, 
 and much to be lost by revealing her secret to the 
 world ; it must be locked in her own heart until such 
 time as Bernard was in a position to do his share, to 
 talk people over, and generally to flatten out the 
 course of true love with his irresistible good humour 
 and common sense. 
 
 Left to herself, she would have been quite con- 
 tented to wait patiently until the announcement 
 could be made under these auspicious circumstances ; 
 she would have knitted, read novels, gone out and 
 come in again just like an ordinary girl, but hiding 
 in her heart the delicious secret which would have 
 made life a glorious thing in spite of its drab and 
 commonplace exterior. But Bernard was not made 
 like that ; he was impatient, restive under the curb 
 of convention and the restrictions imposed on him 
 by his new duties. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 53 
 
 " I must see you," he had written. " Can't you 
 come over here one day this week and we will have 
 tea in a ripping little pub there is about two miles 
 from the camp ? Any day but Wednesday I can 
 get off for an hour or two. There is a train leaving 
 Lewisham at 2.15, gets here just before 3. Morrison 
 will run me over in his car to meet you, and drive 
 you back in time to catch the 4.40 ; you will be home 
 by half-past five. Surely you can manage that ? I 
 must see you, I must. Do say yes." 
 
 And, after all, why not ? Could it be so very 
 wrong to go and have tea with Bernard and Mr. 
 Morrison ? Especially as Mr. Morrison would pro- 
 bably be considerate enough to efface himself, and 
 was quite likely not to put in an appearance at all 
 except in his capacity of chauffeur. No one, not the 
 most exacting of chaperons, could object to Bernard 
 and her having tea together, as they had done a 
 thousand times before, even if their guilty secret 
 leaked out, which did not seem possible with such 
 carefully laid plans. And so she had said " yes," 
 the first little *' yes " which makes the second so 
 much more difiicult. She would wait until a pro- 
 pitious afternoon, one on which Aunt Margaret 
 was safely out of the way, and would send him a wire 
 when to expect her. 
 
 But the week was passing, it was already Thurs- 
 day, and no opportunity had yet presented itself. 
 Aunt Margaret seemed to be obsessed with a passion 
 for sta3dng indoors, and Lovie was almost in despair. 
 The unexpected arrival of Monsieur Grimaux on 
 the previous day was also likely to prove an obstacle 
 in her way, for he would have to be entertained, 
 
54 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 taken for walks and otherwise provided for. Mon- 
 sieur Grimaux, however, had apparently his own 
 views on that subject. Directly breakfast was over 
 he had announced his intention of going up to town 
 on important business, and had further begged to be 
 excused attendance at the dinner table that evening 
 as, owing to the pressure of his affairs, it would not 
 be possible for him to return before midnight. He 
 had, therefore, been somewhat dubiously presented 
 with a latch-key, and had departed, with Lovie's 
 blessing, by the 10.30 train. There remained only 
 Aunt Margaret — and Fate, who ever favours lovers, 
 disposed of her. 
 
 Uncle Percival, who spent his life in collecting and 
 tabulating postage stamps, was the owner of a very 
 superior motor car. He was an obliging old man, so 
 long as no personal sacrifice was required of him ; 
 that is to say, he would lend you the car if he was 
 not using it himself, but would not, under any 
 circumstances whatever, accompany you, an affront 
 which none of his female relatives resented in the 
 least. On Thursday, then, as luck would have it, 
 Mrs. Waterson rang up that she had borrowed Uncle 
 Percival's car and proposed motoring over to see the 
 Everets ; it would be so nice if Margaret could go 
 with her, seeing that Percy Everet was home on 
 leave from the Front and would undoubtedly have 
 much of interest to impart. 
 
 And Aunt Margaret, as it was a bright, sunny day, 
 replied that she would go with pleasure, and further 
 suggested that, as the distance was so great, it would 
 be well to start early and lunch somewhere on the 
 road so that they might be home before darkness 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 55 
 
 made driving dangerous. Everything had gone like 
 clockwork. The car hooted up to the door at twelve 
 as arranged ; Aunt Margaret in her fur coat, and 
 further fortified with three rugs, a foot-warmer, and 
 a veil which completely concealed her features, had 
 joined Mrs. Waterson in the luxurious back seat ; 
 and Lovie had remained at home — with a head- 
 ache. 
 
 Three o'clock that afternoon had found her on the 
 platform of the little wayside station of Rainford 
 shaking hands with Bernard, a bright spot of colour 
 on each cheek and her heart beating with the sinful 
 excitement of her adventure. 
 
 Mr. Morrison, as behoved a really nice young man, 
 expressed his intention of just dropping them at the 
 Fisherman's Inn and then betaking himself to pay a 
 long deferred visit to a man in order to see him about 
 a dog ; and by half-past three the two lovers were 
 safely ensconced in the little parlour upstairs which 
 overlooked the running stream, known as the river 
 Dar, and commanded also an excellent view of the 
 main road. 
 
 Everything having gone so splendidly, it was most 
 unfortunate that when the door was shut, and the 
 pair found themselves in the solitude which their 
 souls had craved, they could think of nothing to say 
 to each other. They examined the ornaments on 
 the mantelpiece and remarked how quaint they were, 
 especially the china dog with the broken foot, which, 
 Lovie declared, reminded her of one that used to be 
 in the nursery at home. Bernard, to put things on a 
 more sociable footing, observed four times that it 
 was a topping scheme ; and Lovie replied that it was 
 
56 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 very nice and she hoped they would not be found out. 
 
 " No fear of that," he assured her, " we are right 
 off the beat here." 
 
 " And are you quite happy — do you Hke it ? " 
 Lovie inquired with almost wifely solicitude. 
 
 " Rather ! " said Bernard, now on easier ground. 
 ** I'm keen as mustard. You soon get used to sleep- 
 ing in a tent, and, by Jove, in the morning one wakes 
 up as fresh as a daisy ! I never want to sleep in a 
 bedroom again." 
 
 '* Indeed, but I hope you will," said Lovie. 
 
 " Oh, well — I hope so too," he replied with an 
 awkward laugh. 
 
 " I mean, it's better for you," added Lovie 
 hastily, furious with herself for feeling so nervous. 
 
 She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, 
 noting the difference which only a fortnight's 
 training had already made in him : the tan on his 
 healthy face, his straighter bearing and the little air 
 of authority which the handling of other men had 
 already given him. 
 
 Bernard caught her look and suddenly turned and 
 put his arm around her. 
 
 " Dear old thing," he said, drawing her to him, 
 " I feel such a clumsy fool, I don't know what to 
 say to you." 
 
 " And so do I," she admitted, laughing. " What 
 is the matter with us ? " 
 
 " I don't know. Give me a kiss," said Bernard, 
 " that will put it right." 
 
 And it did. In a few minutes they were chatting 
 away together like the good friends they had always 
 been ; and the time passed so quickly that when a 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 57 
 
 buxom maid entered with the tea-tray they could 
 hardly believe it was nearly four o'clock. 
 
 It was a nice tea, with watercress and jam, set out 
 on a spotless cloth, and they sat down to it with all 
 the enthusiasm of twenty, out on the spree. And 
 here we must leave them for ten minutes or so, to 
 follow the adventures of Mrs. Massingham and her 
 half-sister, Mrs. Waterson. 
 
 They, too, were spending a most enjoyable 
 afternoon. The Everets had been delighted to see 
 them, an unexpected visit being a joy which only 
 those who have Uved in a remote country house can 
 properly appreciate. Percy had certainly not been 
 quite so ready to impart items of interest as had 
 been fondly hoped — indeed, the fact that it was nice 
 to get a hot bath, and that France was colder than he 
 cared about, seemed to constitute his stock of 
 conversation — but his mother had been more 
 communicative. They had heard of the shell which 
 passed by the house in which he was sleeping, 
 blowing the roof off and shattering every room 
 excepting the one he had chosen for himself. They 
 saw the piece of shrapnel he had taken out of his 
 horse's neck, and the German helmet he had brought 
 home as a trophy, such a horrible looking helmet 
 that every one had wanted to trample on it, but 
 refrained from doing so because they were worth 
 four pounds each and it might be difficult to get 
 another. 
 
 Then they had an early cup of tea and prepared to 
 take their departure. The car came round to the 
 door, rugs were securely wrapped round the two 
 ladies, and, with many smiles of farewell and much 
 
58 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 waving of hands, they had swung down the drive 
 and out into the open road. 
 
 " I do not think we can be so very far from Dar- 
 bridge," observed Mrs. Waterson, " not more than a 
 few miles, I feel sure." 
 
 " But how very nice," replied Mrs. Massingham. 
 " Could we possibly go that way home, and look in 
 and see Bernard ? How pleased the dear boy would 
 be." 
 
 " Let us inquire," said Mrs. Waterson, bUnd 
 instrument of Fate. 
 
 It transpired that they were not so very far away, 
 that it would be possible, on consulting the road map 
 carried by Uncle Percival's most efficient chauffeur, 
 to make a detour which, without losing a great deal 
 of time, should include the ducal grounds in which 
 were quartered the Burlington Horse. 
 
 No sooner said than done : the car sped along 
 the road and Mrs. Massingham 's motherly heart beat 
 high in anticipation of seeing her beloved boy again. 
 
 " I can just imagine his surprise," she said. " I 
 only hope we shall not interfere with his duties ; 
 they seem to work very hard, dear boys. But we 
 will only stay for a few minutes. I do wish I had 
 known there was any chance of our being able to 
 come, I would have brought him a nice hamper ; 
 from what I hear, the food is very indifferent, 
 nourishing and wholesome, I am sure, but not what 
 he has been accustomed to." 
 
 By the time they reached the Fisherman's Inn 
 the chauffeur had come to the conclusion that more 
 petrol would be required for the return journey ; 
 the car drew up at the entrance, and he descended 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 59 
 
 to demand a further supply from the proprietor 
 within. 
 
 " And ask him how far it is to Dar bridge Park," 
 called out Mrs. Massingham, as he disappeared into 
 the Httle hotel. 
 
 Lovie, eating her watercress, started violently. 
 
 " Bernard," she cried in an awestruck whisper, 
 " that is Aunt Margaret's voice ! " 
 
 " It can't be," said Bernard, his mouth full of 
 bread and jam. 
 
 " It is," insisted Lovie with conviction. 
 
 Bernard rose and walked softly to the window 
 overlooking the road. 
 
 " Right you are," he said seriously. " Now we're 
 in for it ! What are we going to do ? " 
 
 " Oh dear," cried Lovie in distress, " I do wish I 
 had never come ! " 
 
 " Never mind," said Bernard sturdily, " there's 
 only one thing for it, we shall have to brazen it out." 
 
 " How on earth did she find us out ? " asked 
 Lovie, her agitation rapidly increasing. 
 
 *' As a matter of fact, she hasn't done so yet," 
 Bernard reminded her with great presence of mind. 
 " Shall we He low, ring the bell and tip the maid to 
 say we aren't at home ? " 
 
 " Could we ? " hesitated Lovie in fear and 
 trembling. '* I expect it's too late now." 
 
 " They are still in the car," said Bernard from his 
 outlook behind the curtain. " Ring the bell, we 
 may be saved yet." 
 
 Lovie slipped across the room ; and, in what 
 seemed an eternity, the door was opened by the maid 
 who had brought up the tea. 
 
6o LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 " I say," began Bernard, with the hauteur of 
 extreme nervousness, " if anyone inquires for us, we 
 don't want to see them. Do you understand ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," repHed the smirking maid. 
 
 " My sister is only able to stay for an hour," he 
 went on with increasing confidence but an un- 
 necessary elaboration of detail, " and we do not wish 
 to be disturbed. Here you are," he added, handing 
 her a couple of coins, which she accepted at once, 
 the smile broadening on her fat and comely face. 
 
 " ril see to it, sir," she said reassuringly. " What 
 name will it be ? " 
 
 " What name ? " repeated Bernard testily. " Oh, 
 it doesn't matter about the name ; if anybody asks 
 for us you can just say we're not here." 
 
 It took a long time to fill up the petrol tank, and 
 Lovie sat with a pale and anxious face through the 
 moments that seemed as though they would never 
 pass. 
 
 " I wonder if I shall get home first," she said, 
 hardly daring to raise her voice above a whisper. 
 
 " Easily," repHed Bernard. " Morrison will be 
 here shortly to take you to the station, you will be at 
 Lewisham by twenty past five, and if you take a cab 
 you can get home in another ten minutes. They 
 can't possibly reach Blackheath before six at the 
 rate Davis drives." 
 
 " Then will come the awful part," moaned Lovie ; 
 " I shall have to explain. I can't imagine how Aunt 
 Margaret has found out. Could she possibly have 
 turned back for anything, and discovered that I had 
 gone out ? But even then nothing short of an 
 inspiration would have sent her here." 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 6i 
 
 " I tell you what," exclaimed Bernard with 
 sudden illumination, " I don't believe she has come 
 after you at all. The Everets' place is not so very 
 far from here. I shouldn't be at all surprised if she 
 is on her way to pay me a visit." 
 
 Lovie considered this. Yes, it was quite possible, 
 a good deal more probable than that her well-laid 
 schemes had been discovered. 
 
 " In that case," she said, " we are saved. But, 
 oh, what a dreadful fright I got ! Never again will 
 I do a thing like this ! It serves me right for being 
 so deceitful." 
 
 " That is what has happened," repeated Bernard 
 with conviction. " The maid is five bob to the good, 
 and we are a couple of owls to get scared for nothing. 
 Finish your tea ; Morrison will be here directly, and 
 we must hook it before they return from the camp. 
 I only hope old Macpherson will insist on showing 
 them over the place ; it would be just like him, he's 
 never happier than when he's conducting ladies 
 round the premises." 
 
 ** Supposing we pass them in the road ! " suggested 
 Lovie, whose nerve was now thoroughly shaken. 
 
 " Oh, don't worry," said Bernard cheerfully, 
 " you'll get home all right. They're off now, going 
 towards the Park, just as I expected. What an 
 escape ! Not that it matters our being here a bit, 
 but it does look rather fishy when you come to think 
 of it." 
 
 " My goodness, yes," sighed Lovie. " Never 
 again ! " 
 
 " Have another cup of tea, won't you ? " he asked. 
 " No, thank you," said Lovie. " Will you ? " 
 
 E 
 
62 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 " No, thank you," he said. 
 The tea-party was spoilt. 
 
 When Mr. Morrison arrived a quarter of an hour 
 later, it was a couple of somewhat subdued young 
 people who awaited him in the entrance. In spite 
 of a determined effort on both sides to regain their 
 former gaiety, it was difficult to dispel the cloud 
 which the unexpected appearance of Aunt Margaret 
 had cast over the proceedings. 
 
 " I hope Tm not late," he called out from the car. 
 " I found I had to run back to camp, and just as I 
 was leaving, old Macpherson collared me — wanted a 
 lift. But I told him I had promised to come here 
 and take you and a lady to the station. I think we 
 have plenty of time. Are you ready ? " 
 
 " Did you meet anybody on the road ? " asked 
 Bernard with traces of anxiety in his voice. 
 
 " Yes, a big Rolls-Royce, two ladies in it, turning 
 into the gates as I left." 
 
 " Thought so," remarked Bernard significantly. 
 *' It was my mother. I hope to goodness old Mac. 
 doesn't give it away about our being here." 
 
 " Oh Lord ! " exclaimed Mr. Morrison, " have I 
 been and put my foot in it again ? " 
 
 " Shouldn't wonder," replied Bernard. " How- 
 ever," he added with philosophy, " can't be helped 
 now. Get in, Lovie, we shall be nicely out of the 
 way before they can get back." 
 
 Mr. Morrison looked very crestfallen. 
 
 *' I say, I'm most awfully sorry," he said. " It 
 never occurred to me — well, there you are, I never 
 gave it a thought. When old Mac. said " 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 63 
 
 ** Oh, dry up ! " said Bernard shortly. " We 
 shall lose the train." 
 
 However, this crowning misfortune was spared 
 them. Lovie caught her train quite easily, and 
 Bernard, with his kind but too talkative friend, 
 returned with all speed to Darbridge Park by a road 
 which did not pass the inn where the stirring events 
 of the afternoon had taken place. 
 
 Captain Macpherson, true to his reputation, had 
 been vastly civil to the two ladies who arrived in 
 such a gorgeous car ; had sympathised with them 
 over the absence of young Massingham whom they 
 had come so far to see, and had further imparted the 
 useful information that, as he was not so very far 
 away, it might yet be possible to catch him, either 
 at the inn or perchance at the station, where he was 
 understood to be seeing off a lady friend. 
 
 Comforted by his kind words and helpful advice, 
 they had returned to the inn, not without a certain 
 curious speculation as to whom Bernard might be 
 entertaining there. This time it was not the 
 chauffeur who descended from the car, but Mrs. 
 Massingham herself. Wrapped in her voluminous 
 fur coat and floating veil, she entered the hall and 
 inquired in gracious accents whether Mr. Massingham 
 was within. 
 
 "No 'm," said the maid — she with the un- 
 expected five " bob " in her pocket — " there's no 
 one of that name here." 
 
 " He has gone then ? " asked Mrs. Massingham. 
 ** How long is it since he left ? " 
 
 " Would it be the gentleman as had tea in the 
 parlour ? " wondered the maid. Since he was not 
 
64 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 there now, there seemed to be httle need for 
 caution. 
 
 " Yes, I expect so," repHed the lady. " A tall 
 young man with a good colour, an officer in the 
 Burlington Horse." 
 
 " That's him," affirmed the maid. " Him and 
 his sister has just gone off in a car with another 
 gentleman, not ten minutes ago." 
 
 " His sister ? " repeated Mrs. Massingham un- 
 easily. " How do you know it was his sister ? " 
 
 " That's what he called her," said the maid 
 vaHantly. " Me and my sister, I heard him meself." 
 Mortal could not do more for a young gentleman 
 who had paid so nobly for discretion. 
 
 " I suppose," ventured Mrs. Massingham as a 
 last hope, " there has not been more than one couple 
 here to tea this afternoon ? " 
 
 " That's all, 'm," said the truthful maid. " We're 
 off the main road, you see ; it isn't often we has any- 
 body here except for the fishing." 
 
 " Thank you," said Mrs. Massingham, lowering her 
 veil again. " Good afternoon." 
 
 " Well ? " asked Mrs. Waterson. " We're too 
 late, I suppose ? " 
 
 " I think there has been some mistake," said Aunt 
 Margaret. " Bernard is not there." 
 
 " Did you ask about the lady ? " pursued Mrs. 
 Waterson with the unquenchable curiosity of a near 
 relation. 
 
 " Dear Maria," said Mrs. Massingham with some 
 asperity, *' it is not my habit to cross-question the 
 servants of an inn as to who has or has not been 
 there." 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 65 
 
 Mrs. Waterson sniffed and settled herself with a 
 jerk into her own corner. 
 
 " You may drive on, Davis," she snapped at the 
 chauffeur's back. 
 
 Mrs. Massingham and she had been half-sisters for 
 a very long time. 
 
66 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 SYBIL BURMESTER was taking a much 
 needed rest after a long and trying day. In 
 the morning she had been at the depot for 
 despatching goods to the Front ; had packed, tied 
 up and addressed packages and parcels until her 
 back was weary and her head ached. After a 
 hurried lunch she had betaken herself to one of the 
 large hospitals to visit a couple of wounded Tommies, 
 and later to a Mayfair mansion on the same errand 
 of mercy towards a young officer in the R.A. Five 
 o'clock had found her at a meeting of the Helpers 
 Guild ; and now it was after six, that cosy hour 
 which is essentially a woman's own, and she was 
 alone in her Uttle flat. 
 
 A roomy arm-chair was drawn up before the fire, 
 and she lounged gracefully in it, gazing idly into 
 the glowing embers. Her features, in repose, and 
 without the vivacity which was one of her greatest 
 charms, looked a trifle drawn and haggard. In the 
 depths of her eyes a hint of trouble lay dormant, and 
 she sighed once or twice as though her thoughts 
 oppressed her. It was not often that she allowed 
 herself the luxury of reflection, if luxury it might be 
 called, seeing that it dealt mainly with the harrowing 
 consideration of how to make both ends meet. 
 
 She was a philosophical little person, one who never 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 67 
 
 met trouble half-way, and she had long ago reconciled 
 herself to the melancholy conclusion that she never 
 would or could have nearly enough money to pay 
 everybody what was due to them. It had, indeed, 
 by this time become merely a question of who would 
 wait and who refused to do so, and her creditors were 
 divided, in her mind, into the sheep and the goats : 
 the first being those who, by means of certain 
 beguiUng excuses, might be induced to postpone 
 their claims until a more convenient season ; and 
 the second such as were impatient, clamorous, and 
 only to be assuaged by frequent doles from her 
 allowance as it became due. But it stood to reason 
 that sooner or later something must be done to cope 
 with a situation which was rapidly becoming more 
 critical. Economies must be considered ; the fiat 
 perhaps let — horrid thought ! — and a series of 
 visits, expensive and therefore boring, be undertaken 
 amongst her friends and relations. 
 
 Things, however, had not yet arrived at this 
 desperate crisis, the very thought of which made her 
 yawn in anticipation, and she told herself, sitting 
 there in her big arm-chair, that with a little manage- 
 ment, and perhaps a stroke of good luck, they might 
 never do so. There was always the possibility of 
 raising funds by the simple expedient of selling a few 
 shares ; but executors, as she knew by experience, 
 were a hard-hearted, close-fisted body of men : 
 easier to draw blood from a stone than a little ready 
 money from Messrs. Martin, Son and Blenkinsop. 
 
 There was also the distinctly unattractive alter- 
 native of remarriage. It might, of course, be possible 
 to find a really agreeable, good-looking, sympathetic, 
 
68 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 virile yet tractable man with a large income ; one 
 who would worship her with devotion and yet allow 
 her to do just whatever she liked. But such men, 
 as she knew, are few and far between. The nice 
 ones are poor and the dull ones rich, and both are 
 inclined to be exacting in the matter of marital 
 relationship, and to hold views which would not 
 coincide with those of a woman who loved freedom 
 better than Ufe itself. Marriage, then, was the last 
 extremity, a contingency too remote to worry about ; 
 and Mrs. Burmester rose somewhat impatiently, 
 and switched on the electric light to drive away the 
 shadows from within and without. 
 
 As she passed through the folding doors into the 
 little dining-room, her eyes rested distastefully on 
 the table already laid for her solitary dinner, for it 
 was Daisy's evening off duty, and a cold shoulder 
 of mutton stood in stark testimony to the kind of 
 meal which lay before her. Daisy's night out was a 
 great trial, but one which must perforce be borne 
 with equanimity, since the estabhshment consisted of 
 only one maid ; and Mrs. Burmester generally 
 alleviated the discomfort of it by dining with friends. 
 But to-night, as it happened, she was to stay at 
 home — with the cold mutton. She gazed at it with 
 aversion : it seemed to be the epitome of all those 
 things which she had just decided to ignore. 
 
 Hardly had she taken her seat when the electric 
 bell buzzed in the kitchen, and, wondering who could 
 be calling on her at such a late hour, she rose and 
 went to the door. On the threshold stood a tall, 
 powerfully-built man with a rough, sun-dried face 
 and a pair of vivid blue eyes fringed with white 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 69 
 
 eyelashes. He was in mufti, and as he raised his 
 hat the Hght from the landing shone upon a crop of 
 stiff, curly, and almost colourless hair, just a shade 
 too long, but brushed with scrupulous care. 
 
 " I hope you will pardon the liberty of my 
 intruding on you at this time of night, Mrs. Bur- 
 mester," he began, in a phrase which had evidently 
 been coined on the way upstairs. 
 
 Sybil looked at him for a second in bewildered 
 uncertainty ; then a light broke in her eyes and she 
 held out her hand. 
 
 " Surely it's Mr. ? " 
 
 " Major Cartwright," he corrected. 
 
 " So it is ! " she exclaimed. "I'm so sorry, for 
 the moment I did not remember you, although your 
 face " 
 
 He laughed. " I bet you don't know now where 
 we met," he said. 
 
 "It's dreadful of me," smiled Sybil apologetically. 
 
 " Thought not," he said cheerfully. " It was in 
 the Army and Navy Stores, about four months ago. 
 I went there with a chap called Lester, who came 
 home on the same ship, to get some things, and he 
 introduced me." 
 
 " Of course," said Mrs. Burmester, " I remember 
 now quite well. Mr. Lester had just come home 
 from South Africa to rejoin his regiment." 
 
 " That's right, and you told me you lived in this 
 block, and I thought to myself, one of these days 
 I'd give you a call." 
 
 " How very friendly of you," said Sybil kindly. 
 " Won't you — will you come in ? " 
 
 " Well, it's not exactly the right hour of the day 
 
70 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 to pay visits to a lady," replied Major Cartwright* 
 following her with long, awkward strides into the 
 drawing-room, " but I have a very good excuse." 
 
 " Yes ? Do sit down," said Sybil, waving him to 
 a chair. 
 
 Major Cartwright looked round the room for a 
 seat to suit his bulk, and finally deposited himself 
 gingerly on the sofa as being most likely to be 
 perfectly safe. 
 
 " Last night, as I was walking down Victoria 
 Street," he began mysteriously, " I happened to 
 look up and notice a red light in a top window 
 opposite here. Something, I couldn't say what it 
 was, seemed to strike me, and I stood still for a few 
 minutes watching it. It went out. Then it showed 
 again." His eyes were full of significance as he 
 fixed them intently on her. 
 
 " Dear me ! " she remarked. 
 
 " Yes, that's what 1 thought," he went on 
 eagerly. " I stood there for some time, but it did 
 not occur again, and to-night at the same time I 
 made a point of being here. The same thing has 
 happened again ! It's a dirty German spy, that's 
 what it is, signalling to some of his pals. I recol- 
 lected that you lived up here, and I have taken the 
 liberty of coming to ask your advice. As you know, 
 I'm not altogether at home in England, although of 
 course I've often been over ; but England is not 
 South Africa, and I don't want to make a bigger 
 fool of myself than usual. I thought perhaps you 
 would tell me the best thing to do." 
 
 " I see," replied Mrs. Burmester thoughtfully. 
 " It certainly sounds a Httle pecuhar, yet, of course. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 71 
 
 there may be nothing in it. What sort of a red 
 hght was it — a lamp ? " 
 
 " No," said Cartwright, " it was a red blind." 
 
 " But lots of people have red blinds," she said 
 doubtfully. 
 
 " Do you think I ought to go and report it to the 
 pohce ? " he asked, ignoring her hesitation. 
 
 " There does not seem very much to report," she 
 reminded him. " The poor police are so very 
 overworked with all this extra alien duty. Would 
 it not be better to wait and make quite sure that 
 something is wrong, before saying anything about 
 it ? Perhaps you could find out who lives in that 
 room from the Hft man." 
 
 " In South Africa," he said, " I wouldn't waste 
 any time about it. I'd take it upon myself to walk 
 upstairs and bang at the feller's door, and if there 
 was no reply in two shakes, I should bust the lock 
 and be inside the room before he had time to get his 
 signalling apparatus out of sight." 
 
 " Would you really ? " asked Sybil. " But " 
 
 *' But, as I said before, this isn't South Africa," 
 he went on. "I suppose I should find myself in 
 quod if I tried that game on here." 
 
 *' Quite likely," agreed Sybil with a laugh. " Do 
 you think we could see the window from here ? " 
 
 " Yes," he said, rising without further ceremony 
 and crossing the room. " Put the light out, will 
 you, and I'll draw the curtain back. That's the one, 
 on the top floor over yonder." 
 
 " It looks very ordinary," commented Sybil. 
 
 " Just what it's meant to do," he said darkly. 
 "Do you mind if I sit out here on the balcony for a 
 
72 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 bit ? I want to watch him. I suppose you haven't got 
 such a thing as a pair of field-glasses in the house ? " 
 
 Sybil passed him her binoculars, which lay on a 
 table waiting for the appearance of Zeppelins ; and 
 he eagerly scanned the suspected window. 
 
 " Can't see anything," he said. " I shall sit here 
 till I do." 
 
 A smile rippled over Mrs. Burmester's face. 
 
 " You may have a long vigil," she said lightly. 
 " Have you dined yet ? " 
 
 " Oh, dinner doesn't bother me ! " he repHed. 
 "I'm much too old a campaigner for that." 
 
 " Still," she urged hospitably, " you ought to have 
 something to eat ; I'm sorry I can only offer you cold 
 mutton, as my Httle maid is out. I am just having 
 some myself." 
 
 "Go on with your dinner then," said Major 
 Cartwright easily. " Don't bother about me ; I'll 
 take a sandwich and a glass of beer if you have it 
 handy." 
 
 "I'm so afraid we have no beer," began Sybil. 
 " Will you have a whisky and soda ? " 
 
 " Any old thing," he called out from the balcony, 
 " and there's no hurry, you know — just bring it along 
 when you've finished your own." 
 
 His enthusiasm was so genuine that it was 
 impossible to resent his amazing manners, they 
 seemed as natural to him as his wild blue eyes and 
 his unruly hair ; and Sybil took her place again at 
 the table for another encounter with the cold 
 mutton. 
 
 But she had not proceeded very far when his voice 
 again rang out from the other room : 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 73 
 
 " He's at it again ! That's three times to-night. 
 Now I wonder what the hell he's up to ! " 
 , Sybil hastily finished her Burgundy and joined 
 the spy-catcher on the little balcony overlooking 
 the street. 
 
 " This is most thrilling," she remarked gaily. " I 
 feel like a lady detective in a penny novelette ! " 
 
 " You Enghsh take these things far too lightly," 
 said Major Cartwright reprovingly. " You don't 
 seem to realise the danger of these blessed spies. If 
 I had my way I'd shoot the lot — the men, that is ; 
 the women I'd pack off to where they belong. There' d 
 be none of all this signalling going on in private 
 houses, I give you my word." 
 
 " Things are done so differently in the Colonies," 
 remarked Sybil mildly. 
 
 " You people here aren't half awake," he went on 
 impressively. " I'm not a soldier by profession, 
 I'm a mining man, but I've done a good bit of it in 
 my time, and I reckon I could teach your chaps a 
 thing or two if I got the chance, for all their gold 
 lace and swank. Just to show you what I mean — 
 there was a thing happened the very day I landed. 
 On the ship we had a mangy looking bloke who said 
 he came from Melbourne. He had been educated 
 at Clifton College and, according to his own account, 
 had travelled all over the world. Stacpool, he called 
 himself. One day I was quizzing him in the 
 smoking-room and I thought to myself, ' If you're 
 not a German, I'll eat my boots.' 
 
 " He didn't make a wild bid for popularity 
 amongst the passengers, and, to cut a long story 
 short, by the time we'd got to Plymouth we had all 
 
74 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 come to the conclusion that he was a spy. There 
 were several soldier men on board, one of them very 
 high up, and I spoke to them about it, but do you 
 think they would do anything ? Not a bit of it ! 
 It wasn't their department ! So I took it upon my- 
 self to slope off to the officer in charge of the guard 
 on the quay and tipped him the wink. By that 
 time Mr. Stacpool had managed to get past the 
 embarkation officials — he spoke English perfectly, 
 of course — and was buying himself a ticket to 
 London, when two Tommies touched him on the 
 shoulder and marched him off for inquiries." 
 
 " But what was the evidence against him ? " 
 asked Mrs. Burmester, deeply interested. 
 
 " Only what I told them," repHed Major Cartwright 
 with pardonable pride. " I said, ' You can take my 
 word for it, there's a screw loose somewhere.' The 
 officer asked me what was wrong with the chap. 
 ' That's for you to find out,' I said, ' and once you 
 let him out of your sight it's precious Httle chance 
 you have of doing it. Lock him up, and do the 
 talking afterwards,' I said, and I handed him my 
 card." 
 
 Mrs. Burmester smiled at him in some amusement. 
 
 '* Wouldn't you have looked rather fooHsh if it 
 turned out that he was quite genuine ? " she asked. 
 
 " That wouldn't worry me," said Cartwright 
 lightly. " If all he told us about himself was true 
 he could soon prove it, and if it wasn't they had him 
 safe — either way a few days in cells wouldn't do him 
 any harm, the dirty swine ! " 
 
 " And did you ever hear what happened to the 
 poor young man ? " asked Mrs. Burmester. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 75 
 
 *' No," said Cartwright carelessly. " T ripped 
 over to France three days after I landed and forgot 
 all about him." 
 
 " And you've been at the Front ever since ? " 
 
 " On and off," he replied ambiguously, " but I've 
 come to the conclusion that I'm not the bird for over 
 there. I don't mind telling you that I'm disap- 
 pointed at the way things are being done." 
 
 " Really ? " 
 
 " Yes, too slow for me they are, not enough go in 
 'em ; when I'm up against anything I like to get a 
 move on. I reckon German South-East is the place 
 for me." 
 
 " I expect you're right," said Mrs. Burmester. 
 " I can quite understand that this is a very different 
 campaign from anything you've been through before ; 
 no doubt your colonial experience will be valuable 
 out there." 
 
 ** Yes, I was right through the South African war," 
 he continued, " that's where I got my majority, and 
 directly this affair broke out I chucked up my 
 business in Johannesburg — a clear couple of thou- 
 sand a year, mind you — and took the first boat 
 home. Went to the War Office, and what do you 
 think they said ? " 
 
 " Tell me," she asked. 
 
 " There was an old blighter with a glass eye looked 
 me up and down as if I'd gone to try and borrow a 
 fiver from him, hummed and hawed a bit, and turned 
 me down because I was too old ! Me ! a man in the 
 very prime of life ! But that was in the early days 
 before they'd got so hard up for officers. No doubt 
 I could get anything I liked to ask for now, but I'm 
 
76 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 not taking any. Had enough. Besides, I'm sick of 
 the cold and the damp, I want some real South 
 African sun to warm my bones, to say nothing of a 
 nice fat Httle farm when it's all over. I've had my 
 eye on that part of the world for a long time ; it's the 
 coming country." 
 
 Sybil looked curiously at him. He was an 
 entirely new specimen of humanity, and his crude, 
 almost brutal candour repelled her. Yet there was 
 something distinctly likeable in the confiding 
 twinkle of his startlingly blue eyes, the spontaneous 
 laugh which showed all his strong white teeth, and 
 his half -shy air of bravado. He was like a huge 
 fifth form schoolboy ; and she smiled at him in 
 spite of herself. 
 
 " You have a strange point of view for a soldier," 
 she remarked. 
 
 " But don't forget I'm a miner too," he said. 
 " Soldiering is all very well for a time, and nobody 
 loves a scrap more than me, I don't care who it's 
 with ; but there's no hard cash in it, and that's a 
 thing we can't get along without." 
 
 " No, indeed ! " assented Mrs. Burmester with 
 conviction. 
 
 " Money talks," pursued Major Cartwright, now 
 on a favourite subject. " It's money makes honest 
 men, and money makes thieves. Do you suppose 
 that feller over the road would be at his dirty work 
 if he didn't get paid for it ? " 
 
 " I can't help thinking you are mistaken about 
 that window," said Mrs. Burmester. " Even if the 
 light did flash a few times, it might be accounted for 
 in several ways. At any rate I should think your 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE ^'j 
 
 German spy has gone to bed now ; his light has been 
 out for some minutes." 
 
 "I see what it is," observed Major Cartwright 
 easily, " you want to get rid of me." 
 
 " No, please ! I didn't mean that," laughed 
 Sybil. " It is quite early yet, if you would like to 
 watch a little longer." 
 
 " Anyhow, it's too cold for you to stand out here," 
 he said, " I was forgetting you weren't made of 
 leather like me. I think I'll be off now, and I shall 
 certainly look in at the police-station and give them 
 the tip about our friend over the way." 
 
 " No, please, don't," said Sybil seriously. 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " At any rate let us wait a little ; perhaps to- 
 morrow night something more may happen." 
 
 " Will you let me know if it does," said he, " or 
 shall I come along and watch for myself ? " 
 
 " Give me your number and I will 'phone you if 
 there's anything doing." 
 
 " But can't I come and see you again ? " he urged 
 quickly. 
 
 " Y-es, do," said Sybil. " Come some afternoon 
 to tea ; I am often in at four o'clock." 
 
 " Right you are," sighed Major Cartwright. 
 *' I'll get into a boiled shirt and do the correct thing, 
 shall I ? " 
 
 Sybil rested her hazel eyes for a fraction of a 
 second on his tough, self-reliant face, and met his 
 eager glance with a frank smile of amusement. 
 
 " If you know how ! " she said lightly. 
 
 " You wait ! " He laughed as he took her hand 
 and crushed the rings into her fingers in true South 
 
7S LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 African style. " You don't know me yet — I'm a 
 whale on etiquette. Good-bye." 
 
 As the door closed behind him, she returned to the 
 drawing-room with the smile still lingering in her 
 eyes. It had not been such a very dull evening 
 after all. i 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 79 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 POOR Monsieur Grimaux was very bored. He 
 had tried to read the morning paper, and 
 given it up as a tedious waste of time and 
 energy. He had ventured into the pantry where 
 Evans was poHshing the silver before putting it into 
 its baize-lined basket ; and, after several ineffectual 
 attempts to draw him into conversation, had 
 reluctantly come to the conclusion that he was a 
 half-witted old curmudgeon whom it would be wiser 
 to leave alone. 
 
 His roving eye had glanced into the kitchen and 
 met that of a fat and unresponsive cook : no hope 
 there, nor yet with the anaemic and weedy-looking 
 kitchenmaid who was washing the dishes. Martha, 
 the housemaid, was Uttle better ; she had been with 
 the Massinghams for eighteen years, and in that 
 time had succeeded in moulding herself into a 
 caricature of her mistress, whom she loved and 
 feared second only to God Almighty Himself. 
 
 Lovie had gone out after breakfast, accompanied 
 by a yapping little terrier, and was not expected 
 back until luncheon time. There remained only 
 Mrs. Massingham herself, and eventually he had 
 drifted into the dining-room to find what entertain- 
 ment he could in her middle-aged charms. 
 
 It was nice and warm in there. A faint smell of 
 
8o LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 breakfast still lingered in the air, the cat lay blinking 
 on the hearthrug, and Mrs. Massingham herself, 
 seated in an easy chair with her inevitable knitting, 
 completed a typically English picture of domestic 
 comfort. Monsieur Grimaux lowered himself into 
 another, and took up the paper again ; but his eye 
 wandered over the top of it — a very cautious 
 Peeping Tom. Indeed, he stood greatly in awe of his 
 imposing hostess. 
 
 His critical gaze travelled from her smooth, grey 
 head, over her ample bosom, and down her still 
 shapely limbs till it rested on her sensible house 
 slippers. Here he hastily averted his eyes ; it was 
 impossible to Unger on those truly EngHsh horrors, 
 they were too pratique, even for ten o'clock in the 
 morning. Back to her face he went, scanning the 
 firmly closed lips, the inscrutable expression which 
 a Hfelong habit of self-control had stamped on her 
 features. 
 
 He wondered what she might be thinking about. 
 Not a sympathetic nature, he reflected, but one 
 capable of emotion under certain circumstances. 
 He asked himself whether those circumstances had 
 ever arisen, and decided that they probably had not. 
 She was undoubtedly a strong-minded woman, but 
 he had met such women before ; they were amenable 
 to kindness, easily tamed if approached with 
 flattering humility. For want of something better 
 to do, he resolved to begin at once. 
 
 As though taking her cue, Mrs. Massingham 
 looked up, and met his eye with an encouraging 
 smile : she wanted him to feel at his ease with her, 
 whatever she might feel with him. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 8i 
 
 "It is a pleasant morning," she remarked, 
 carefully pronouncing each word that he might be 
 able to understand her. " Would you like to go for 
 a walk ? I hope you will do just as you like here 
 and make yourself at home." 
 
 " You 'ave nice 'ands," observed her visitor 
 gently. " I like them." 
 
 " My hands ! " exclaimed Mrs. Massingham, 
 looking at them in surprise. Then she smiled at his 
 absurdity. ** I have never thought about them." 
 
 *' I like so much the small ends of your fingers," 
 went on Monsieur Grimaux, " that little one, with 
 the wool — so — I like it best. Mrs. Sandys 'ad fat 
 'ands." 
 
 " Indeed ! " replied Mrs. Massingham in indulgent 
 tones. The poor young man was not EngHsh and 
 must not be judged harshly for his foolishness. " I 
 do not know Mrs. Sandys. Is she nice ? " 
 
 " All women are nice," replied Monsieur Grimaux, 
 carefully choosing his words, " but some women are 
 more nice than the others." 
 
 Mrs. Massingham did not know what to say to 
 this. It was obviously true, yet held somehow a 
 hint of audacity which made her feel uneasy. 
 Better to change the subject. 
 
 " Have you a father and mother ? " she inquired 
 conversationally. 
 
 " My mother is dead," replied Monsieur Grimaux. 
 " I am a little — how you say it ? — orphan." 
 
 He sighed, but since his mother had died at his 
 birth it could not have been on her account. He 
 must have done it because it was the right thing for 
 an orphan to do. 
 
82 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 After this exchange of civiUties silence lay heavy 
 upon them both. Belgian people, reflected Mrs. 
 Massingham, were very difficult to entertain. Her 
 ball of wool rolled to the ground ; and, swooping on 
 his opportunity, he quickly picked it up, winding it 
 until he reached her chair. 
 
 " I think — you will teach me to do that good 
 work ? " he asked. " I shall make a chose-la for a 
 poor Belgian refugee." His fingers almost touched 
 her as he wound the ball nearer and nearer to her 
 unsuspecting hands, and, before she realised what 
 he was about to do, he had stroked her wrist up- 
 wards to where it curved under her sleeve. " What 
 a soft skin ! " he remarked gently. 
 
 " Oh, if you please ! " exclaimed Aunt Margaret 
 in some alarm. " You must not do that." 
 
 " No ; but why ? " he asked with the pained 
 innocence of a babe. 
 
 " Englishmen do not behave in that way," said 
 Mrs. Massingham reprovingly. "It is not done." 
 
 " Ah, it is a faux pas ? " suggested Monsieur 
 Grimaux with a gesture of despair. " You are 
 angry ? No ? Then I will be good child and sit 
 beside you." 
 
 " I think you had better go back to your own 
 seat," remarked Mrs. Massingham coldly. 
 
 " So ? I will do as you say, I wish to please 
 you," and he sank into the recesses of his arm-chair 
 with an audible sigh. This time it was a genuine 
 one. Clearly, she was impossible. 
 
 The marble clock on the mantelpiece ticked out 
 the solemn minutes ; a longer morning had never 
 been known since the beginning of time. And 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 83 
 
 there was still the afternoon, and the evening ! 
 There was also the next day, and the next ! It 
 seemed incredible that any human souls could live 
 in such abysmal dullness. Even Miss Lovie — what 
 a shameless name for a girl — with her shy eyes and 
 sweet smile, was virtuous to the point of imbeciHty ; 
 never once had his ardent glances aroused a spark 
 of interest in her placid face, although on the night of 
 his arrival no young man could have been more 
 painstaking, more obviously eager to attract. 
 
 The outlook was gloomy indeed. He decided 
 to go for a walk : at any rate there were girls who 
 pushed perambulators, who sat on seats in the Park 
 and were not averse to the attentions of a beguiling 
 stranger with a slight limp and a fascinating tassel 
 to his cap. 
 
 So out he went ; and, as the door closed behind 
 him, Mrs. Massingham heaved a sigh of relief and 
 laid down her knitting with the air of one who has 
 nobly played her part. For her heart was not in her 
 work that morning ; the events of the previous day 
 lay heavy on her mind, and maternal anxiety was 
 causing her more uneasiness than she had known for 
 a long time. There could be no possible doubt that 
 Bernard was involved in some sort of intrigue with a 
 lady ; that he had passed her off, for some reason 
 best known to himself, as his sister, and was driving 
 about the countryside with her in a motor-car, 
 aided and abetted by a certain Mr. Morrison. 
 
 There must be, she thought, a very urgent reason 
 for her straightforward Bernard to behave in such 
 an underhand manner. Not a word had he hinted 
 of any entanglement ; he had always appeared to 
 
84 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 be so entirely heart free that his indifference to the 
 other sex had become a standing joke in the family. 
 And now, at last, there was somebody, some girl 
 who had to be kept out of sight, who was not to be 
 introduced to his mother, whose name even had to 
 be hidden from the servants in a village inn. 
 
 Mrs. Massingham reflected sadly that with the 
 death of his father a double duty towards him now 
 lay on her shoulders ; the boy must not be allowed 
 to spoil his career and possibly to blight his life as so 
 many in their ignorance had done before him. He 
 was emotional and impetuous ; once in the net of an 
 intrigue there was no saying what he might or might 
 not do, especially now that he was away from the 
 guiding influence of his home. The longer she 
 considered the danger which threatened him the 
 more serious grew her anxiety, and she determined 
 to lose no more time in finding out what he was up 
 to : she would tackle him at once. 
 
 Being, as we know, a woman of enterprise and 
 resource, she rose promptly and went over to the 
 writing-table ; from the rack she took a telegram 
 form and, with a firm scratching of her pen, filled it 
 in : an urgent message for him to obtain leave, and 
 return home as soon as possible on a business matter 
 of importance. The bell was rung, Evans was 
 despatched to the post office, and Mrs. Massingham 
 took up her knitting again with a lighter heart. She 
 told herself that she had acted with great prudence, 
 no father could have done more, and that when the 
 time came for her to act a mother's part, to extract 
 skilfully from her erring son the admission of his 
 misdeeds, she would be equal to that also. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 85 
 
 Hardly had Evans left the house when there was a 
 loud thump at the front door and a moment later 
 Martha announced the arrival of a policeman. 
 
 " A policeman ! To see me ? " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Massingham, wondering what fresh calamity was 
 about to befall her. 
 
 *' I put him in the hall,"m," said Martha stoHdly. 
 
 Mrs. Massingham rose and left the room. There, 
 sure enough, standing in the hall, was a fat, wooden 
 man in blue who respectfully touched his hat at her 
 approach. 
 
 " Could I speak to you, ma'am, on a matter of 
 business ? " he asked confidentially. 
 
 Silently she led him into the dining-room, and 
 stood waiting for him to unfold his tale, while he 
 fumbled in his pockets for some papers. 
 
 " We've had certain information," he began in 
 guarded tones, " about a gentleman staying here, a 
 Belgian officer." 
 
 " Indeed ! " 
 
 Her eye was bright and frosty, and the policeman 
 bUnked but manfully held his ground. 
 
 " Sorry to trouble you, ma'am," he went on 
 apologetically, " but a party has warned us to keep 
 our eye on him, and we can't afford to lose any 
 chances with all these German spies about." 
 
 "Is he suspected of being a spy ? " asked Mrs. 
 Massingham in some alarm. Her instincts had been 
 right then ; there was something strange about the 
 little man, in spite of his engaging manners. 
 
 *' That I couldn't say," returned the constable 
 cautiously. " Can you tell me who he is, where he 
 comes from, and what he is doing here ? " He stood 
 
86 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 ready with notebook and pencil, waiting for her 
 reply. 
 
 Mrs. Massingham sat down, overcome by the 
 majesty of the law. 
 
 " Dear me ! " she said feebly. " But I am not 
 surprised ; I have all along protested against this 
 indiscriminate hospitaUty to people of whom we 
 know nothing at all. The gentleman is a perfect 
 stranger to me ; he was sent here by a lady who is 
 interesting herself in Belgian refugees." 
 
 '' What is the lady's name ? " snapped the police- 
 man, busily writing in his httle book. 
 
 " Well — I do not know if I ought to give you her 
 name," hesitated Mrs. Massingham in some distress. 
 " However, I certainly cannot be responsible for the 
 man. She is a Mrs. Burmester, living in West- 
 minster Mansions in Victoria Street, London, a 
 connection of my family by marriage and quite 
 above suspicion. No doubt she has been imposed 
 upon, but that you will be able to find out." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am ; and the gentleman's name ? " 
 
 " He calls himself Adolphe Grimaux. He is 
 supposed to be an officer in the Flying Corps, 
 wounded, and sent over here to recover. I know 
 nothing more about him, nothing whatever." 
 
 The poHceman wrote it all down. " Thank you, 
 ma'am, and could you tell me where he was and 
 what he was doing last night ? " 
 
 " I could not," said Mrs. Massingham crossly. 
 " He left here about ten in the morning and I did 
 not see him until breakfast time to-day ; he let 
 himself in about midnight, I believe, with a latch-key 
 which he asked for before going up to town." 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 87 
 
 The constable glanced shrewdly at her. " You 
 know that he went to town, then } " he asked 
 respectfully. 
 
 "I do not," replied Mrs. Massingham, getting 
 distinctly restive under this undignified cross- 
 examination, and more furious every moment with 
 the unhappy young man who was the cause of it. 
 " He said he had to go there on business, that is all 
 I can tell you." 
 
 " Thank you, ma'am," said the officer kindly. 
 " And may I take it that you will give us any assist- 
 ance in your power ? We should be glad to hear if any- 
 thing suspicious happens to strike you ; if you would 
 be good enough to ring us up at once we would send 
 round and take any steps that might be necessary." 
 
 " Indeed, I shall do nothing of the kind ! " replied 
 Mrs. Massingham hotly. " I am not in the habit of 
 spying on guests in my house. As the young man is 
 under suspicion I shall have to consider what is to 
 be done about him ; the probability is that other 
 quarters will be found for him. I do not wish to 
 take any responsibility whatever ; it is nothing to do 
 with me and I am extremely sorry that I weakly 
 allowed him to come here. I did so against my 
 inclinations, and this is the result of it ; my in- 
 tuitions told me it was an unwise thing to do, 
 and " 
 
 " Quite so, ma'am," observed the policeman, 
 hopping, with the agility of long practice, into the 
 pause in her remarks, " and thank you very much. 
 We shall keep our eye on him. I suppose there 
 would be no objection to one of our men speaking 
 now and again to your servants ? " 
 
88 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 " I wish to have nothing whatever to do with the 
 case," replied Mrs. Massingham. " It is most 
 distasteful to me that such a thing should have 
 happened in my house. Good morning." 
 
 The policeman took his departure and poor Aunt 
 Margaret, a great deal more perturbed than she 
 cared to admit, resumed her knitting. Truly this 
 war was a terrible affair when a lady of blameless 
 reputation and undoubted integrity was inveigled 
 into a disgraceful scandal through no fault of her 
 own ; when policemen took it upon themselves to 
 walk into the house and ask impertinent questions, 
 writing it all down in a book, and sending it goodness 
 knows where ! 
 
 She blamed everybody bitterly : Lovie for 
 suggesting Belgians at all ; Mrs. Burmester for 
 producing this particular specimen ; the specimen 
 himself ; and, most of all, Monty Drake, who ought 
 to have known better. There was only one con- 
 solation, Bernard would soon be at home ; he would 
 know what to do. A man in the house, even a young 
 man and one who in other respects might be wanting 
 in a sense of what was right and proper, was a 
 tremendous help in times of difficulty, and she 
 thanked heaven that the telegram was already on its 
 way. 
 
 Luncheon that day was about as dismal a meal as 
 it is possible to conceive. Mrs. Massingham sat at 
 the head of the table, grim and disapproving. Her 
 words, when she spoke to Monsieur Grimaux, fell 
 like hailstones from her Hps, and froze the unhappy 
 young man into a state of profound misery which 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 89 
 
 rendered him almost speechless : evidently, he told 
 himself, he had offended beyond forgiveness. His 
 food lay untouched on his plate ; a painful smile 
 glistened on his poHte Httle face ; and his hands 
 worked together nervously out of sight under the 
 table-cloth. 
 
 Lovie was not much better. She, too, had her 
 troubles, chief of which was a guilty conscience, the 
 same being a most embarrassing possession when it 
 is young and tender, one not hardened by adversity 
 nor seasoned with the philosophy which comes only 
 with experience. The journey home after her 
 adventure had been full of harrowing apprehension ; 
 her heart had turned to water when she thought of 
 the interview with Aunt Margaret that possibly lay 
 before her.. It had certainly been a relief to meet 
 her cheerful, unsuspecting eye, and to realise that 
 the secret was undiscovered ; and yet her mind 
 refused to be quite at ease, something seemed to 
 warn her that all danger was not yet past. 
 
 Who could look on that dour, uncompromising 
 face at the head of the table without feeling that 
 something was amiss ? Why did Aunt Margaret 
 turn such a cold and glassy eye on her every time 
 she opened her mouth ? What reason could there 
 be for her obvious displeasure ? There could only 
 be one reason. She had found out, or at any rate 
 suspected the nefarious adventures of her unworthy 
 niece ! Lovie was utterly miserable. They were all 
 miserable. Even Evans hovered round the table 
 like the shadow of death itself ; he was never a 
 cheery soul, but he seemed to-day to have reached 
 a record depth of depression. 
 
90 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 However, miserable or not, the proprieties must 
 be observed, and Lovie braced herself to observe 
 them. 
 
 " Are you going out this afternoon, auntie ? " 
 she inquired, with commendable enterprise. 
 
 " No, I am not," rephed Mrs. Massingham coldly. 
 
 " I thought you intended to call on the Burton- 
 Smiths," persevered Lovie. 
 
 " I did intend doing so," said her aunt severely, 
 " but I have altered my arrangements. It is possible 
 that Bernard may be here this afternoon." 
 
 Bernard ! Lovie' s heart stood still. Calamity 
 was in the air. She tried to speak but her voice 
 failed her. 
 
 " I sent him a telegram this morning," continued 
 her aunt with dignity. " I wish to see him on a 
 matter of business." 
 
 The worst had happened ! The blow had fallen ! 
 But, instead of collapsing entirely under the weight 
 of it, Lovie felt her spirits give a sudden bound of joy 
 within her, and the anxiety of the past few hours 
 disappeared as if by magic. Bernard was coming ! 
 A blessed sense of security filled her and she raised 
 her eyes and met those of her aunt with a clear and 
 unabashed smile of delight. 
 
 " Three hearty cheers ! " she remarked jauntily. 
 
 It was what Bernard himself would have said, and 
 Mrs. Massingham permitted herself a smile. Mon- 
 sieur Grimaux smiled too, but only out of politeness : 
 there was no more desperate Belgian refugee in 
 England that day than the little flying man. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 91 
 
 N 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 ^^ 'T^ T 0, sir, Mrs. Burmester is not at home," 
 said Daisy. 
 
 " What does that mean ? " asked 
 Major Cartwright easily. " Is she out, or having a 
 rest, or what ? " 
 
 Daisy regarded him with the stolid immobiUty of 
 a stone image. He was no gentleman. 
 
 " Mrs. Burmester is out," she replied coldly. 
 
 " When will she be in ? " pursued Major Cart- 
 wright, entirely unabashed. " I want to see her on 
 important business ; she is expecting me this after- 
 noon." 
 
 The little maid never removed her eyes from his 
 face : of course it was wartime, many strange things 
 happened in these days. 
 
 " I daresay Mrs. Burmester might be in to tea," 
 she hesitated ; " she never said anything about 
 expecting anyone." 
 
 " She forgot," said Major Cartwright. " What 
 time is tea ? " 
 
 " Four o'clock, sir," rephed the maid, wilting a 
 Uttle under his imperious manner. 
 
 " Good. I'll just wait in the drawing-room," he 
 observed, brushing her aside as he crossed the 
 threshold. ** Get me a pen and ink, will you ? I want 
 to write a note." 
 
92 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 Daisy succumbed without another struggle ; per- 
 haps, after all, he was a gentleman. Yet her eyes 
 followed him suspiciously as he strode with perfect 
 self-assurance into the little drawing-room. Evi- 
 dently he knew his way quite well, although she 
 could not remember having seen him there before. 
 She did not understand him at all ; and, after 
 providing him with the required writing material, 
 returned to the kitchen, carefully leaving the door 
 open, the better to keep him under observation. 
 
 Major Cartwright, quite unaware of anything 
 unusual in his behaviour, hastily scribbled a note on 
 a sheet of Sybil's nice grey paper. Then, taking up 
 the binoculars which lay where he had put them the 
 night before, he went over to the window and 
 carefully scanned the building opposite. Events had 
 moved quickly since he had left Mrs. Burmester on 
 the previous evening, and he was proud to think that 
 he had done his share in moving them. England 
 being what it was, his detective operations had 
 naturally been restricted, but enough had been 
 discovered to prove that his suspicions were not 
 unfounded. 
 
 Inquiry of the hall porter had elicited the in- 
 formation that the offending fiat belonged to a lady 
 who was at present staying in the country, and that 
 it had been lent to Belgians until her return. More 
 than this the man would not say ; but, on further 
 pressure and the offer of half a crown, had admitted 
 that the married couple who resided there were not, 
 at the moment, in, having gone out earlier in the 
 evening, and that the other member of the party 
 was entertaining her young man in their absence. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 93 
 
 Impossible for a sportsman like Major Cartwright 
 to abandon such a promising spoor. His worst 
 suspicions were thoroughly roused, and he had 
 proceeded up the stairs on a tour of investigation. 
 After a tedious and unproductive half-hour, his 
 patience was rewarded by the appearance of a little 
 man in uniform, who closed the door and slipped 
 down the staircase like a limping grey shadow, not 
 even looking to see whether the lift were there or not. 
 Major Cartwright slipped after him, the joy of chase 
 in his eye. Along Victoria Street he sped, dodging 
 people in the gloom, his gaze ever on the retreating 
 figure before him. 
 
 When they reached Charing Cross Station it had 
 become obvious that his quarry had barely time to 
 catch his train ; and, without waiting to take a 
 ticket, he had followed him, with a reassuring nod to 
 the collector, through the barrier, and, close on the 
 heels of the fugitive, had just managed to enter the 
 same compartment as the train moved out of the 
 station. He sat back in his corner, his keen blue 
 eyes scanning every detail, watching every move- 
 ment and every look. He noted the changing 
 expression of the beautiful brown eyes, the nervous 
 and frequent twisting of the neat little moustache, 
 and the tassel which dangled over the side of the 
 jaunty httle cap. 
 
 It seemed a long journey, but at last the train 
 steamed into Blackheath Station, and the officer 
 alighted. Major Cartwright aHghted too, and, 
 hurrying past him, paid his fare, explaining that in 
 his haste there had been no time to take a ticket. 
 By this time the Belgian spy was well ahead, and 
 
 G 
 
94 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 his pursuer had to hasten his steps to overtake him. 
 After a few minutes* walk he had turned in at a 
 large, imposing pair of gates, and a moment later 
 was fitting his latch-key into the lock of the front 
 door. Major Cartwright stood in the shadow of 
 some bushes, with his eyes glued on the house. He 
 saw the hall light go out, another one blaze behind 
 the blinds of an upstairs window ; and then, very 
 well satisfied with his night's work, was about to 
 leave the grounds, when he found himself con- 
 fronted with a bull's-eye lantern. 
 
 All policemen are suspicious — it is their nature 
 to be — but this was the most inquisitive and un- 
 appeasable policeman who ever flashed his light 
 into the eyes of an innocent man. Useless for 
 Major Cartwright to explain his reasons for lurking 
 amongst the bushes at that time of night. The 
 constable grufHy refused to believe a word of his 
 story, had stared at him with the stolid, unpleasant 
 air of one who is not to be trifled with. It had 
 ended in a visit to the local police-station in order 
 that Major Cartwright might demonstrate the purity 
 of his motives at head-quarters. Here his path 
 had been easier, and, eventually, he had arrived in a 
 taxi at his hotel about two o'clock in the morning 
 after a most eventful and pleasantly exciting 
 evening. 
 
 It was this interesting story of his adventures 
 which he proposed to relate to Mrs. Burmester. 
 
 But she was late. Four o'clock had already 
 struck and there was no sign of her return. He 
 walked impatiently up and down the room like a 
 restive lion in captivity, examining the Httle pictures 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 95 
 
 on the walls, the books on the shelves and the 
 various knick-knacks in which the room abounded, 
 much to the amusement of Daisy, who was keeping 
 watch through the crack in the door. 
 
 At last the key was heard in the lock, and the 
 cheery voice of Mrs. Burmester rang out in the hall. 
 
 " Come along in," she said, " and we'll have some 
 tea and talk it over." 
 
 With a characteristic little rush she entered the 
 room, and pulled up with a smile of surprise to find 
 it already occupied. 
 
 Major Cartwright went forward to meet her, but 
 he also stopped half-way, gazing with petrified 
 amazement over her head at the man who was 
 behind her. He could hardly beHeve the evidence 
 of his senses, for there, following her into the room, 
 was the Belgian spy whom he had tracked to his lair 
 on the previous evening. There could be no doubt 
 about it ! The same little fingers were twirling the 
 same little black moustache, the eloquent brown 
 eyes rolled as ardently as ever ! 
 
 " Well, I didn't expect to find you here ! " began 
 Mrs. Burmester in a burst of candour. 
 
 Major Cartwright found that quite easy to believe, 
 but less so to account for his presence under the 
 suddenly altered circumstances. His story, thrilHng 
 as it had promised to be in the telhng, had clearly 
 lost point. It was indeed impossible to proceed with 
 it at all ; and he cast about rapidly in his mind for 
 an adequate excuse for his visit. 
 
 Monsieur Grimaux, meanwhile, was making him- 
 self at home with the freedom of an old friend. He 
 possessed himself of Mrs. Burmester's furs, which he 
 
96 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 laid carefully on the sofa, pulled up her chair to the 
 fire, and, seeing that she had rung for tea, drew from 
 its corner a small table on which to stand the tray ; 
 after which he handed her one of her own cigarettes 
 and helped himself to another. Most attentive he 
 was, and Major Cartwright watched him with the 
 deepest distrust. 
 
 Mrs. Burmester introduced the two men, and 
 began, like the kindly little soul she was, to put 
 Major Cartwright more at his ease. Her frank 
 amazement at seeing him there had not been a very 
 flattering reception, and it was only too obvious that 
 the poor man was feeling his position acutely. 
 
 " How really friendly of you to wait ! " she said. 
 " I should have been in ten minutes ago, but I met a 
 girl in the street and stood talking to her ; and then 
 Monsieur Grimaux came up, so I have brought him 
 in to tea — at four o'clock I expire unless I am 
 provided with tea." 
 
 " Your servant said you wouldn't be long," said 
 Cartwright awkwardly. " I thought you wouldn't 
 mind my waiting." 
 
 " Delighted ! " said Sybil with enthusiasm, but 
 not without a certain speculation as to what he 
 might have waited for. As, however, it appeared 
 that he had no intention of enhghtening her, she 
 turned with an amused smile to her other young man. 
 " And you ? " she asked. " What is the matter ? " 
 
 Monsieur Grimaux shrugged his shoulders, his 
 hands disclaimed any responsibiUty. 
 
 " Moi ? " he said nonchalantly, " I 'ave run away." 
 
 " Not from that nice, kind Mrs. Massingham ? " 
 demanded Sybil, aghast. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 97 
 
 " But yes," he repeated with a graceless laugh. 
 
 Sybil gazed at him in helpless despair. 
 
 " Dear Monsieur Grimaux," she said with mild 
 reproach, " I am very angry with you. I find you a 
 charming home, where you have everything you can 
 possibly wish for. What more can you want ? 
 Why have you run away ? " 
 
 " The eat is good," admitted Monsieur Grimaux, 
 " mais — I unhappy, I bore myself." 
 
 " You are impossible ! " sighed Mrs. Burmester. 
 ** What am I to do with you ? Do they know yoti 
 have gone ? Did you say good-bye ? " 
 
 Monsieur Grimaux, a Httle bewildered by this 
 fusillade of questions, gave up his attempt to explain 
 himself in EngUsh, and broke into a torrent of fluent 
 French, his words falHng over each other, his hands 
 working as fast as his tongue. With many ejacu- 
 lations of comic despair, he described the horrors 
 of the Massingham menage, the prodigious dullness 
 of the entire family, the stupidity of his hostess, the 
 inhuman indifference of Miss Lovie, and lastly, the 
 incredible solemnity of the luncheon table. Nothing 
 had pleased him. If he must die, let it be on the field 
 of battle, or in some wild adventure of the air. He 
 protested violently against death by asphyxiation 
 under the weight of EngHsh domesticity. 
 
 Major Cartwright watched them both from under 
 his white eyelashes. French was not one of his 
 manifold accomplishments ; and, for the first time 
 in his hfe, he wished it had been. It was quite 
 obvious that they were on extremely intimate 
 terms, so much he could gather from their under- 
 standing glances ; and, as he reflected on the events 
 
98 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 of the past few hours, the conviction forced itself 
 into his mind that the lovely Mrs. Burmester was not 
 quite the innocent and artless lady he had taken her 
 to be. 
 
 He recalled her attitude of the previous evening, 
 her objections to his perfectly natural scheme of 
 informing the police of his discovery, her insistence 
 on the necessity of waiting at any rate until to-night, 
 and her airy derision of his suspicions. And yet, 
 that so charming a woman, one so aristocratic and 
 ingenuous, should lend herself to the dastardly plot 
 of a Belgian spy was almost unbelievable. Not 
 without irrefutable proof would he harbour such a 
 thought. She was much too nice, and the man, as 
 one could see at a glance, was one of those appeahng 
 little blackguards who always manage to impose on 
 the other sex. Being a good South African with a 
 bias in favour of saying what you mean and meaning 
 what you say, Major Cartwright would have 
 preferred to tackle the suspected spy there and then. 
 
 He would have liked to take him by the coat 
 collar, and shaken out of him a confession of his 
 nocturnal doings and all that they impHed ; and, if 
 the little Belgian had been able to prove himself an 
 innocent and unjustly accused man, or if he had 
 resented such summary treatment, then coats would 
 have come off and they would have settled their 
 differences on the hearthrug ; after which they 
 would have shaken hands and become friends for 
 life. This, at least, was Major Cartwright's idea of 
 how things should be done ; they were the methods 
 of the country to which he belonged ; but the 
 chastening influence of old Mother England was upon 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 99 
 
 him, and he stayed his hand, mentally promising 
 the feller a sound hiding if his suspicions proved to 
 be correct. 
 
 The first thing to be done was to ascertain whether 
 or not they were so, and for this purpose he pro- 
 ceeded to act with extraordinary guile. There is no 
 more dangerous adversary than a South African 
 acting with guile : training and tradition have made 
 him such an honest and straightforward looking 
 person that he appears almost incapable of deceit. 
 However, he is not. 
 
 Moreover, especially if he is a mining man as was 
 our gallant Major in times of peace, long experience 
 has taught him the gentle art of bluff, so that he can 
 give points and a beating to any Continental card- 
 sharper. It is his long suit and he holds all the 
 tricks. True, then, to his ideals, Major Cartwright 
 beamed a kindly smile upon the unfortunate Belgian, 
 and offered in honeyed tones to give him a five-pound 
 note, if that would be any use to him. He had 
 gathered that, as usual, money was at the root of the 
 trouble, and he knew that there was no shorter cut 
 to a poor man's confidence than a present of hard 
 cash. 
 
 *' Now, I do call that really kind ! " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Burmester gratefully. " His pay is so little, and 
 what there is of it is so far in arrears, that the poor 
 thing is really and truly in the most terrible diffi- 
 culties." 
 
 Monsieur Grimaux, who never despised half a 
 sovereign from such of his lady friends as could spare 
 it, looked very haughty at the idea. As a gentle- 
 man, he refused the gift with dignity, but, on further 
 
100 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 persuasion, was induced to accept it as a Belgian 
 refugee, in part payment of the debt which all 
 English people owe to that plucky little country. 
 
 " And what's more," said Major Cartwright, " I'll 
 tell you what Til do. If you like to come and put up 
 at my hotel for a week, I'll pay the bill. How does 
 that strike you ? " 
 
 " No, no, it is too much ! " murmured the little 
 man. 
 
 " Not a bit of it ! " said the Major breezily. " I 
 expect to be leaving England in ten days or so, but 
 as long as I'm here you're my guest," he added, 
 with certain mental reservations. 
 
 The money would be well spent if it enabled him 
 to keep the alleged spy under observation ; it was a 
 patriotic action, and he was proud of it. It would, 
 however, be necessary to proceed with extreme 
 caution. 
 
 " At any rate," he said, " it won't be so dull for 
 you as where you were before. I suppose the 
 evenings were the worst time ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, very bad," repHed Monsieur Grimaux. 
 
 " What did you do last night ? " asked the Major 
 pleasantly. 
 
 It was no part of the young man's scheme to 
 explain that he had spent the previous evening 
 flirting with a girl in the flat opposite, and it would, 
 besides, have spoilt the artistic picture of misery 
 which he had presented for the benefit of Mrs. 
 Burmester. For a fraction of a second he hesitated, 
 uncertain which of the many obvious lies that 
 rushed into his mind would serve him best. Then 
 with a characteristic gesture he threw out his hands. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE ''-' loi 
 
 " Sacre nom ! " he laughed, " do not speak of it. 
 Figure to yourself, I sit with the two good, kind 
 English ladies ; the cat, the dog, and me ! It was 
 gay — not 'alf ! " 
 
 '* Go to bed early ? " pursued Major Cartwright 
 cheerfully. 
 
 " Who knows ? " said Monsieur Grimaux, with a 
 careless shrug. " We were asleep all the time." 
 
102 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 WHEN Bernard, in obedience to the urgent 
 wire received that morning, arrived in 
 Mr. Morrison's motor at his mother's 
 front door, he looked so big and so grand in his 
 khaki that her heart gave a bound of something that 
 was almost apprehension as she watched him from 
 her bedroom window. It seemed as if, in the short 
 time which had elapsed since he left home, he had 
 changed from a boy into a man. He was no longer 
 her child to be scolded for the error of his ways ; and 
 the fact that she had summoned him for that 
 purpose alone caused her an unexpected pang of 
 alarm. 
 
 However, she was not, as we know, a woman to be 
 turned from her design by weak and foolish senti- 
 ment : duty must be performed, khaki or no khaki, 
 and she smoothed her hair and descended to meet 
 him with all her accustomed dignity. 
 
 Lovie, needless to say, was before her. Indeed, 
 he had hardly time to knock at the door before it 
 was opened to him, and a moment later they were in 
 the safe shelter of the dining-room with their arms 
 about each other. 
 
 " What's up ? " he asked. 
 
 " Aunt Margaret knows," said Lovie. " I'm sure 
 she does," 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 103 
 
 " All the better," he said. " I hate all this 
 secrecy. How did she find out ? " 
 
 " I can't think," replied Lovie. " And, of course, 
 there's just the chance that she hasn't ; it may be 
 that she wants to see you about something else." 
 
 " Anyhow, I'm quite determined to settle up 
 things between us now," said Bernard with great 
 determination. " I shall tell her we're engaged to 
 be married. What do you think ? " 
 
 " Oh," gasped Lovie, " here she is, coming 
 downstairs ! Yes, I'm sure we ought to tell her ; 
 but, oh Bernard, if she doesn't know about yester- 
 day, don't say anything about it, will you ? It was 
 such a horrid, deceitful thing to do, and I hate 
 having done it ; of course if she has found out there's 
 nothing for it but to own up." 
 
 " Right you are ! " said Bernard. " Leave it all 
 to me, darling, and don't worry ; everything will be 
 all right." 
 
 They moved hastily apart as the door opened to 
 admit Aunt Margaret, and Bernard went to meet 
 his mother with a jaunty smile on his brown, 
 honest-looking face. 
 
 " Hullo, mater ! " he said. " I haven't lost any 
 time, you see. Morrison happened to be coming to 
 town, and brought me along ; he's to call for me at 
 five o'clock." 
 
 " Dear boy," murmured Mrs. Massingham, as she 
 kissed him fondly, " it is good of you to have come so 
 quickly." 
 
 Lovie took the opportunity to slip out of the room, 
 and mother and son faced each other, both ready 
 for the fray. The same intrepid spirit shone in the 
 
104 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 two pairs of grey eyes ; but here all resemblance 
 ceased, for Bernard took after his father, and was 
 wearing that air of pleasant evasiveness which that 
 dear man had always assumed in times of domestic 
 trouble, and which, for twenty-five years, had never 
 failed to annoy and mystify his wife. 
 
 " What's up ? " demanded the young man. 
 Vocabulary was not his strong point. 
 
 " I wished to speak to you," began his mother, 
 glancing round the room to make sure that they were 
 alone. " At first I thought of writing, and then I 
 decided not to write ; it is much better, I think, to 
 talk things out." 
 
 " Quite," replied Bernard encouragingly. 
 
 Mrs. Massingham fidgeted a little with her rings, 
 and, becoming aware of it, pulled herself together 
 and folded her hands with the composure she knew 
 she ought to feel. 
 
 " As you are aware, my dear boy, it has never 
 been my habit to interfere with you in any way. 
 You are now old enough to judge for yourself what is 
 right for you to do, and what is not. I have always 
 made a point of leaving you to manage your own 
 affairs, and my confidence in your judgment has 
 never been shaken — up to the present." 
 
 Bernard's eyes were upon her, steady and in- 
 quiring, and she met them with a sHghtly nervous 
 smile. He looked so authoritative, almost com- 
 manding, that she felt — but it was too absurd. 
 
 " Sit down, dear," she said kindly, " we shall be 
 able to talk more comfortably." 
 
 "No, I'll stand," he said. 
 
 He moved over to the fire-place, and faced her with 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 105 
 
 his back to the fire, a position which, for some 
 extraordinary reason, seems at once to put a man in 
 possession of the whole room and all there is in it. 
 Mrs. Massingham subsided into her arm-chair with 
 resignation. 
 
 " Yesterday," she began, " I drove over with your 
 Aunt Maria to see the Everets, and, on the way back, 
 finding we were near Darbridge Park, we called to 
 see you." 
 
 " Yes, Macpherson told me," he said. " I was 
 sorry to be out." 
 
 " He said that you might possibly be found at a 
 little inn in Darbridge," continued Mrs. Massing- 
 ham, " and we went there to inquire for you. I wish 
 you to thoroughly understand what happened, 
 because, although I know you would never for a 
 moment suspect me of prying into your affairs, it 
 may seem a Httle strange that I should discuss you 
 with the maid there. All I said was, ' Is Mr. 
 Massingham here ? ' and she replied that you had just 
 left in a motor-car with another gentleman and — 
 this was so extraordinary — that your sister was 
 with you ! On the spur of the moment, and hardly 
 thinking what I was saying, I remarked, ' His 
 sister ! Surely you must be mistaken ? ' just like 
 that. Whereupon she repeated that you had been 
 there with a lady whom you had spoken of as your 
 sister and that you had both had tea together in the 
 parlour." 
 
 She paused for him to speak, and after a moment's 
 hesitation he turned towards her. 
 
 " Quite right," he said frankly, " I was there with 
 a lady, and I did refer to her as my sister — for the 
 
io6 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 benefit of the maid. Rather a feeble thing to do, 
 I admit." 
 
 " Then why do it, dear ? " asked his mother 
 mildly. 
 
 " Well, there you are," said Bernard. " Why 
 does one do these things ? I suppose 1 thought, if I 
 thought at all, that it would look better. There was 
 no earthly reason why we should not be there 
 together, but she seemed to think it was rather risky 
 of her to have come, and I thought she would feel 
 happier if the people believed her to be my sister. 
 That's why." 
 
 ** It was a great shock to me," pursued his mother ; 
 " not so much the fact that you had invited a lady 
 to tea with you. I hope I am not narrow-minded, 
 and, of course, you have many friends whom I do not 
 know, but I could not help feeHng that there was 
 something rather underhand in passing her off as 
 your sister, and, on thinking the matter over, I 
 decided that the best and most open course for us to 
 take was to meet and talk the matter over quietly. 
 I should not think, for a moment, of trying to force 
 your confidence, or asking you to tell me anything 
 which you do not wish to ; but, now that your dear 
 father is gone, I have a double sense of responsibihty 
 towards you, and I do not feel that I should be doing 
 my duty if, knowing, quite by accident, that you 
 were meeting some one in a clandestine manner, I 
 did not ask for an explanation." 
 
 Bernard was inspecting his finger-nails with much 
 interest. 
 
 *' Quite," he said laconically, not knowing what 
 else to say. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 107 
 
 Mrs. Massingham began to feel more like herself ; 
 it was evident that he was distinctly uncomfortable 
 under her cross-examination. After a moment's 
 pause she returned to the attack with renewed 
 confidence. 
 
 " Is there any reason why I should not be told the 
 name of this — this young person ? I take it she was 
 a young person ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Bernard stolidly, " there is a reason." 
 
 " Then may I inquire what that reason is ? " 
 demanded his mother relentlessly. 
 
 " The lady wouldn't like it," he replied. " Per- 
 sonally, I have no desire to keep the thing secret, 
 but since it has been I don't feel able to tell you her 
 name." 
 
 Mrs. Massingham fixed him with a disapproving 
 eye ; she was quite at home now. 
 
 " You mean to tell me, then, that the meeting was 
 arranged beforehand, and carried out so that no one 
 should know anything about it ? " 
 
 " That was the idea," admitted Bernard. 
 
 " I knew I was not wrong," remarked Mrs. 
 Massingham with profound conviction. " My in- 
 stinct told me, the moment I heard of the affair, 
 that it was an intrigue. I felt it at once, and your 
 attitude only confirms my suspicions. I am more 
 than grieved to think that at your age you are 
 already in the hands of some woman. You little 
 know the danger you are running : many a young 
 man has been ruined for life by just such a foolish 
 episode. You are inexperienced, you do not realise 
 the importance of these things, and, before you know 
 where you are, you may be dragged into a disgraceful 
 
io8 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 scandal which would spoil your whole career. I 
 implore you, my dear boy, be guided by me, and 
 draw back before it is too late ! " 
 
 Bernard looked extremely annoyed. 
 
 " Look here, mother," he said sharply, " you are 
 quite off the mark. I am not being dragged into a 
 disgraceful scandal by any designing woman, and I 
 rather resent your jumping to such a conclusion. 
 Beyond the fact that I don't wish to give you her 
 name, you know nothing at all about her, and you 
 haven't the sHghtest reason for supposing that there 
 is anything discreditable about her. As a matter of 
 fact, the whole thing is perfectly straightforward, and 
 if it rested with me I shouldn't hesitate to tell you all 
 about it at once ; but, as it is, she does not wish it, 
 and you must just take my word for it that there is 
 nothing for you to worry about." 
 
 " Then you have already discussed it with her ? " 
 asked his mother shrewdly. " She wished her name 
 to be kept a secret from me ? " 
 
 " From everybody," said Bernard. " The fact is, 
 she wanted to see me and I wanted to see her, and we 
 hit upon the scheme of meeting there and having tea 
 together. The whole thing is perfectly simple." 
 
 " I should feel more sure of that if I knew who she 
 was," said his mother. " No nice, well-brought-up 
 girl would arrange a meeting in a remote little inn 
 alone with a man unless they were on the most 
 intimate terms. If she wished to see you, there are 
 many other ways of doing so, and no reason, that I 
 can see, why it should not have been done quite 
 openly. I can only conclude that she is not the 
 sort of woman you could introduce to me." 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 109 
 
 " Oh, I say," cried Bernard, losing his patience, 
 " I know you mean well, and all that, but really, 
 mater, you're making a frightful fuss about nothing ! 
 I will give you my word, if that will satisfy you, that 
 I am not involved in any intrigue with a person of 
 that kind. I'm not a child : I know perfectly well 
 what I'm doing ; and if I choose to ask a girl to tea 
 there is no earthly need for you to imagine all sorts 
 of ridiculous things about it. You must try and 
 reaUse that I'm grown up now, and not be a silly 
 old thing." 
 
 " I do not think that is quite the way to speak to 
 your mother, Bernard," said Mrs. Massingham with 
 some asperity. "If I am a silly old thing it is not 
 for you to say so. I am sorry that you so mis- 
 understand me." 
 
 " I don't misunderstand you at all," replied 
 Bernard. *' But you make me wild talking as if 
 I were rushing headlong to destruction just be- 
 cause I ask a girl to tea and don't tell you about 
 it." 
 
 " No doubt I have been very clumsy and fooHsh," 
 said Aunt Margaret with unexpected humility. 
 " If your dear father had been alive he would 
 probably have managed with more tact : men 
 understand each other better in these matters." 
 
 " Well, I can tell you this," said Bernard, " if 
 Dad were here now, and knew all about it, he would 
 be perfectly satisfied and would not raise the 
 slightest objection to my meeting her." 
 
 Mrs. Massingham looked up quickly. 
 
 '* Did your father know her then ? " she asked 
 sharply. 
 
no LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 " Oh Lord ! " said Bernard under his breath. 
 " Yes, he did," he added aloud. 
 
 Mrs. Massingham stared at her son with growing 
 suspicion. 
 
 " And yet I am not even to be told her name ? " 
 she inquired coldly. " May I know why ? " 
 
 Bernard almost wriggled under her stony dis- 
 pleasure. 
 
 " In the circumstances it's better that you should 
 not," he explained, looking extremely uncomfort- 
 able. 
 
 There was a dreadful pause. Then Mrs. Massing- 
 ham rose and faced him ; her hands were clenched, 
 and she controlled her voice only with difficulty. 
 Conviction had seized her ! 
 
 " Bernard," she said impressively, " tell me — I 
 insist on knowing — is her name Grace ? " 
 
 Bernard stared at his mother in amazement. The 
 sudden change in her manner, her eagerness and the 
 intensity of her tone greatly bewildered him : he 
 wondered what had come over the old dear. 
 
 " Why Grace ? " he asked with a puzzled 
 laugh. 
 
 " Tell me at once ! " commanded his mother. 
 ** It is my right, and I refuse to be kept in the dark 
 any longer." 
 
 " No," he said slowly, " her name isn't Grace." 
 
 *' You are quite sure ? " she persisted, her eyes 
 searching his face to see if he were speaking the 
 truth. 
 
 " Quite, absolutely," he replied. " Why do you 
 ask ? " 
 
 Mrs. Massingham drew a long breath, she was only 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE iii 
 
 half convinced, then with a sigh she resumed her 
 dignity. 
 
 " I have very good reason for asking," she said 
 coldly. "It is a subject I do not care to discuss 
 with you." 
 
 Bernard turned away from her and stood a few 
 moments staring reflectively into the fire. Evi- 
 dently the mater was rattled. The announcement 
 of his engagement must wait until a more auspicious 
 occasion ; in her present mood there was no knowing 
 what line she might take ; she would be more than 
 Hkely to oppose him from pure cussedness. With a 
 boyish smile in his honest grey eyes he turned and 
 faced her again. 
 
 " Very well, then," he said with forced cheerful- 
 ness, " we will each keep our guilty secret to our- 
 selves. The meeting is now closed. I'll go and find 
 Lovie." 
 
 Lovie took a good deal of finding ; and Mrs. 
 Massingham had time for fully ten minutes' reflection 
 before the two young voices were heard outside in 
 the hall. And a bothering ten minutes they were. 
 She was very far from satisfied at the way things 
 were going. It seemed as though she were pursued 
 by difficulties and troubles of every kind. First, 
 there was the fatal letter from the Front, and then 
 the horrid disclosure of the missing £5,000, with all 
 that it meant. Before she had time to turn round, 
 so to speak, this little Belgian had been thrust upon 
 her ; and, while she was heroically making the best 
 of that, there had appeared on the scene the police- 
 man with his scandalous insinuations, his dirty little 
 notebook and his hint of German spies. And now 
 
112 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 there was Bernard and the mysterious lady, or 
 person, or whatever she might be. Very perplexing 
 it all was, and she sighed wearily to herself as she 
 wondered what the end of it all would be. 
 
 Bernard, while he was finding Lovie, found also 
 time to repeat to her most of the conversation which 
 had taken place between his mother and himself ; 
 and she had agreed with him that it would be mad- 
 ness to risk their chance of a peaceable settlement by 
 breaking their news at the present crisis. It would 
 also be selfish, with poor Aunt Margaret already so 
 worried ; and, more than all other considerations, 
 how dehcious it would be to keep it their very own 
 secret for a little while longer ! 
 
 " But why Grace ? " he had asked. 
 
 And Lovie, true to the promise she had given Aunt 
 Margaret, had been obliged to avert her head : it 
 was horrible not to be able to look darling Bernard in 
 the face. 
 
 " It was silly of her to say that," she remarked 
 quietly. 
 
 " But who is Grace ? " asked Bernard. 
 
 This time it was easier. 
 
 " I don't know," she replied with perfect candour. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 113 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 SOMETHING was the matter with Evans. His 
 eyes, which usually trailed along the carpet, 
 seemed to have become suddenly almost 
 assertive ; sometimes he raised them with a glint 
 of furtive significance as though some secret power 
 inspired him. His manner was more alert than it 
 had been ever since the death of his beloved master, 
 and his shuffling apathy had given place to a 
 feverish and barely-suppressed enthusiasm. 
 
 He polished the silver with a vigour it had not 
 known for years ; and his attitude towards his old 
 enemy, Martha, was so authoritative that, after 
 several vain attempts to put him in his place, she 
 had been obliged to complain to her mistress about 
 his overbearing ways. It was quite evident to all 
 the servants that he was giving himself airs ; and 
 even Mrs. Massingham herself was obliged to admit 
 to her maid and confidante that a manservant with- 
 out a master in the house was always difficult to 
 manage. 
 
 If further proof of his emancipation were needed, 
 he had demanded a day off, and that on a Sunday, 
 too, the one day of all others when his absence 
 would put the household to most inconvenience. It 
 meant that Martha would not be able to attend the 
 
114 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 evening service because she must see to the cold 
 supper ordained for Sunday evenings ; and the 
 prospect aroused her to a pitch of indignation 
 which was most unbecoming in a Christian 
 woman. 
 
 It was not as though he could not have easily 
 arranged another time for his outing, because he 
 had for years been allowed a freedom that often 
 raised pangs of envy in the breasts of his fellow- 
 servants. Days out and evenings off he had 
 despised, but it had become a recognised thing for 
 him to " slip out " whenever fancy took him, so 
 long as it did not interfere with his duties. Each 
 year he had taken, generally under protest, a fort- 
 night's holiday, disappearing with his old carpet-bag 
 into the unknown, and appearing again at the 
 appointed time with unfailing regularity. Where he 
 went or how he spent his time had been a mystery 
 for so long that Mrs. Massingham had ceased to 
 wonder about it. Repeated attempts on her part 
 had never beguiled from him the secret of those 
 furtive fortnights. 
 
 Inquiries as to the health of his relations, if any, 
 had merely elicited the information that they were as 
 well as could be expected under the circumstances, 
 and, beyond the fact that he went into the country, 
 no further details had been forthcoming in all the 
 twenty-five years he had served her. As she said, 
 it would have been so nice and natural of him to have 
 been a Httle more communicative, especially when 
 one had taken the trouble to ask questions : his 
 reserve was almost an affront after her condescension 
 and kind interest in his affairs ; but it was only one 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 115 
 
 of the many drawbacks to old Evans, and she had 
 accepted it with resignation. 
 
 And now there was this tiresome day off ! Argu- 
 ment and even entreaty had been of no avail : the 
 most important business was afoot, albeit wrapped 
 in impenetrable mystery. Sunday it must and 
 should be : Evans was relentless ! Already there 
 were signs of the disturbance which his lack of 
 consideration was causing in the house. The 
 Sabbath calm was broken at quite an early hour by 
 the unnecessary noises made by Martha in the 
 dining-room : fire-irons clattered, chairs were banged 
 about and the windows were thrown up with a 
 revengeful swing. Martha was in one of her 
 tantrums, and her duster flicked the furniture like 
 the thong of a whip. 
 
 When breakfast was cleared away Evans had 
 trudged up the back stairs with a jug of hot water, 
 determination writ large on his rugged, ugly old 
 face : he was resolved, it appeared, to make the 
 best of himself for the great occasion. He shaved 
 with scrupulous care ; brushed his hair till it 
 positively shone on his head ; and further arrayed 
 himself in a brown tweed suit which reposed for 
 months at a time in his bottom drawer. When he 
 tramped downstairs again, his boots glistening, his 
 black bowler hat in his hand, he could hardly have 
 been recognised as the dingy old servant who had 
 crept up less than an hour before. 
 
 An uneasy self-consciousness seemed to possess 
 him, so that he could not face the critical eyes of the 
 maids in the kitchen ; he therefore made his way with 
 suspiciously light footsteps along the passage to the 
 
ii6 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 back door, and passed unobtrusively down the side 
 path and out into the road. Once there, his con- 
 fidence somewhat returned to him, and he walked 
 briskly to the station. His eye was full of resolve, 
 his lips were tightly closed ; a great adventure was 
 ahead of him. 
 
 An hour later he was standing in the last place 
 where anybody might have expected to find him, 
 namely, in the entrance hall of Westminster Man- 
 sions, deep in conversation with the lift man. Mrs. 
 Burmester, it transpired, was not at home, she had 
 gone to church. Evans received the news with an 
 unmoved countenance. Time was no object, there 
 was a whole day before him in which to do what 
 had to be done, and with the porter's permission 
 he would sit down and await the lady's return. To 
 this suggestion, the porter, being a sociable soul, 
 had assented with enthusiasm. A chair had been 
 provided, and a fusillade of questions opened to 
 elicit if possible his past history, present sur- 
 roundings, and the mission which had taken him 
 there that morning. But we know Evans by this 
 time : no power on earth could induce him to part 
 with any details about himself or his business ; and 
 the enthusiasm of the lift man gradually but un- 
 mistakably waned as he realised the fact. 
 
 Finding that the unresponsive stranger had no 
 affairs of his own and took but little interest in those 
 of other people, had never seen service, knew nothing 
 about the inner side of the war and held practically 
 no views on the proper conduct of the same, his 
 efforts to entertain promptly subsided. He went 
 about his work again with such a marked absence of 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 117 
 
 cordiality that poor Evans began to feel himself a 
 mere cumberer of the earth ; and, with a muttered 
 apology, betook himself out into the comparative 
 geniaHty of the streets. 
 
 When the Abbey chimes rang out the hour of one 
 he wended his way back to the building, and this 
 time ascended in the hft to make further inquiries. 
 No, Mrs. Burmester had not yet returned ; she was 
 lunching out and was not expected until three 
 o'clock, said Daisy. No matter. Two hours more 
 or less did not trouble him in the least ; he would call 
 again at three o'clock. There were seats in little 
 parks where a man might sit and smoke his pipe in 
 peace and contentment, with no bells to answer and 
 no maids to bother him. Evans found one, and 
 spent a tranquil two hours in communion with his 
 own soul. 
 
 It was a deUcious morning : the air was crisp and 
 clear, with the blessed exhilaration of early spring ; 
 birds were singing to the sunshine in the bare boughs 
 overhead, lifting up their throaty Httle voices in 
 thanksgiving for the leaves which were to come as 
 shelter for their nests. A sheen of tender green 
 was on the lower bushes, and an almond tree, 
 racing ahead of her sisters, was already arrayed in 
 her pink veil. In a patch of damp lawn a fat thrush 
 was industriously dragging reluctant worms from 
 their lair ; pigeons strutted aimlessly on the gravel 
 paths, pecking fastidiously at invisible grubs ; and 
 occasionally a dog, intent on business of his own, 
 ran past with barely a glance at the soUtary old 
 man who sat and waited so patiently there on the 
 seat. 
 
ii8 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 At last it was three o'clock, and he rose stiffly 
 and wended his way back to keep his self-made 
 appointment with Mrs. Burmester. The porter was 
 not there, and he walked up the flights of stone 
 steps, his breath growing shorter and shorter as he 
 reached the fifth floor. This time success met his 
 efforts : the lady was at home, and without further 
 parley he was ushered into the little drawing-room. 
 
 Mrs. Burmester received him with a puzzled 
 smile, and he stood for a moment on the threshold 
 looking as uncomfortable as it is possible for a man 
 with an impassive face to look. 
 
 " You wanted to see me ? " she asked kindly. 
 
 He seemed a nice old man, respectfully aware of 
 his position and evidently, for some reason, ill at ease. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," replied Evans awkwardly, " I 
 was told to come and see you." 
 
 " Sit down," said Mrs. Burmester, " you look 
 tired." 
 
 " It's those stairs, ma'am," said the old man, 
 " me 'eart isn't what it was." 
 
 He seated himself on the edge of a chair, and 
 cleared his throat as if about to make a speech. 
 
 " What do you want to see me about ? " asked 
 Mrs. Burmester, since it appeared he needed a Httle 
 assistance. 
 
 Evans laid his hat carefully on the floor and began 
 to unbutton his coat. From the inside pocket he 
 produced a bulky package, tied up with string, and 
 sealed with splashes of red wax. 
 
 " I was to give you this," he said simply. " My 
 master told me to give it to you six weeks after 
 his death. It's six weeks to-day since he was shot." 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 119 
 
 Mrs. Burmester took the package from him in 
 bewilderment. She turned it over, read the address 
 and glanced at the seal, but nothing was to be 
 gathered from the outside. Then she raised her 
 eyes curiously to the old man's face. 
 
 *' Who was your master ? " she asked. 
 
 *' Mr. Wilfred Massingham," he replied, " least- 
 ways, he was Colonel Massingham by rights ; I was 
 forgetting." 
 
 " Of Blackheath ? " 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 Mrs. Burmester turned the parcel over in her 
 hands, and read the address again to make quite sure. 
 
 " It seems all right," she remarked almost to 
 herself, " but what an extraordinary thing ! " 
 
 " There'll doubtless be a letter inside," suggested 
 Evans. 
 
 Out of his pocket he took a huge penknife, and, 
 opening it, passed it silently to her. Slowly she cut 
 the string, and unfolded the outer wrapper. 
 
 Inside was a large, thick envelope, marked in the 
 top left-hand corner " Private," and addressed to her 
 in bold masculine writing. With growing curiosity 
 she cut it open and drew from it, to her utter 
 amazement, a bundle of bank-notes, fastened 
 together by a metal cHp. She stared at them for a 
 moment in speechless astonishment ; then, laying 
 them down on her lap, she picked up the envelope 
 again and peered inside it. It was empty. 
 
 Evans was leaning forward, watching her every 
 movement with almost painful eagerness ; his hands 
 were locked together, his thin lips quivered with 
 excitement. 
 
120 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 " Read the letter," he urged in a trembling voice. 
 
 " I don't see any letter," exclaimed Mrs. Bur- 
 mester ; " yet surely there must be one ! " 
 
 She turned the envelope nervously upside down, 
 shook the brown paper in which it had been folded, 
 but it was no use : the notes were there — a large 
 bundle of them — of explanation there was none. 
 
 Evans rose to his feet in his excitement. 
 
 " There was a letter, I know," he insisted, " the 
 master told me so himself. ' Give it to her with 
 your own hands,' he said ; ' the letter will explain 
 everything.' " 
 
 " There is certainly no letter here," replied Mrs. 
 Burmester. " He must have forgotten to put it in, 
 unless it has been taken out since." 
 
 " Taken out ! " cried Evans indignantly. " Who 
 is there to take it ? That parcel has never once left 
 my pockets since he give it to me the day before he 
 went away. You've only got to look at the seals 
 to see it's never been touched. Taken out ! " he was 
 almost overcome by the absurdity of the suggestion. 
 
 " Yes, of course, of course," said Mrs. Burmester 
 quickly, " but the whole thing is too extraordinary, 
 I don't understand it in the least. Tell me, what did 
 your master say to you about it ? " 
 
 *' Only just what I told you, ma'am," repeated 
 Evans with a tinge of obstinacy in his tone. " Could 
 I just 'ave a look for meself ? Perhaps it's got 
 mixed up with the other papers." He took the 
 parcel of notes and turned them carefully over, 
 without evincing the slightest surprise at the huge 
 sum of money he had been unwittingly guarding. 
 " No, it's not there," he said at length. " Anyway, 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 121 
 
 I gave you the package just as it was 'anded to me ; 
 what's happened to the letter I couldn't say." 
 
 Mrs. Burmester was very perplexed, as well she 
 might be. 
 
 ** I don't know what to do about it," she said 
 helplessly. *' When did he give it to you ? Tell me 
 all he said about it." 
 
 " I was brushing his dinner jacket the day before 
 he left for the Front," repHed Evans readily, " and 
 he came into the bedroom and sat on the side of the 
 bed, in a way he had — there was never anything 
 stand-ofhsh about 'im. I remember it was about 
 six o'clock in the afternoon ; what with getting him 
 ready to go away Fd had so much to do all day that 
 I was late with his things. He pulled that package 
 out of his pocket and said, ' Evans, I want you to do 
 something for me.' He knew he'd only got to ask, 
 whatever it was. He said, ' I want some one I can 
 really trust, and I don't know a better man than 
 yourself.' He went on to talk about all the years 
 we'd been together and how I had always served him 
 faithful, which indeed I 'ave, though I say it meself. 
 ' It may be,' he says, ' that I shall never come back 
 from the war. You can't go with me, they won't 
 have you, because you're too old. But there's one 
 thing you can do : if I never come back, take this 
 parcel to the address written on the outside and 
 give it to the lady with your own hands.' I took 
 the parcel, and I put it in me inside pocket. * I 
 needn't tell you,' he says, ' not to say a word to 
 nobody about it ; it's a private matter and I don't 
 want no hving soul only you and me and her to know 
 about it. And, just to make sure as how there's no 
 
122 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 mistake, keep it until I've been underground six 
 weeks.' I asked him was there any message, and he 
 said, ' No, only make quite sure that she gets it ; 
 don't 'and it in at the door, give it to her yourself ; 
 the letter inside will explain everything.' " 
 
 Mrs. Burmester never took her eyes off the old 
 man's face while he was speaking, she seemed to be 
 trying to read his thoughts ; but there could be no 
 doubt whatever of his honesty — every inflection of 
 his voice testified to that — and, when he had finished, 
 she met his eye with a sincerity equal to his 
 own. 
 
 " Well, you see there is no letter," she said, " no 
 explanation whatever. I really don't know what 
 to do about it. It is such a very large sum of money ; 
 there cannot be less than four or five thousand 
 pounds here. Perhaps I ought to see Mrs. Massing- 
 ham about it." 
 
 " For Gord's sake don't do that ! " cried Evans, 
 quite forgetting himself in the horror of such a 
 suggestion. 
 
 " But what am I to do with it ? " she asked. 
 " It's rather a responsibility, don't you see ? Poor 
 Colonel Massingham evidently wanted me to do 
 something for him, although why he has chosen 
 this strange method of asking me I do not yet see. 
 I certainly feel that I must consult either his relations 
 or, possibly, his solicitor about it." 
 
 " Look 'ere, ma'am," said Evans, leaning con- 
 fidentially towards her, " that money was meant 
 for you. It wasn't meant for nobody else. You 
 can take my word for that." 
 
 " But how do you know ? " asked Mrs. Burmester. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 123 
 
 " You say that Colonel Massingham told you nothing 
 of what was inside ? " 
 
 " Begging your pardon, ma'am, that was a lie," 
 said Evans. " Leastways, it wasn't exactly a lie 
 either " 
 
 Mrs. Burmester stared incredulously at him. 
 
 " You are a most extraordinary old man," she said 
 at length. " Perhaps, since you know so much, you 
 can tell me the reason of his sending me such a large 
 sum of money ? " 
 
 " I daresay I could do that too," he replied 
 evasively, " but, if I may say so, ma'am, it's none of 
 my business, nor yet none of yours. The money 
 was sent to you as a present. What's happened to 
 the letter I couldn't say, but I can tell you this : 
 he didn't want his wife to know about it, nor yet 
 anybody else. It's a matter between you and him ; 
 and, if you think anything about the wishes of a 
 man that's dead and gone, you'll put it in your 
 pocket and say no more about it." 
 
 Mrs. Burmester was watching him shrewdly. 
 It was quite evident that he knew a great deal 
 more than he meant to say. 
 
 " I understand then that Colonel Massingham 
 told you he was sending me this money and why he 
 was doing so ? " she hazarded. 
 
 " He did, and he didn't," replied Evans am- 
 biguously. " The fact is, ma'am, I don't feel at 
 liberty to say no more about it. He had his secrets, 
 same as we all have ; but, now 'e's gone, it's not for 
 us to try and rake them up — that's the way I look 
 at it." 
 
 " I quite agree with you," said Mrs. Burmester, 
 
124 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 *' but you see my position, don't you ? Here I am, 
 handed a very large sum of money by a perfect 
 stranger. I am sure you can realise that I cannot 
 accept it without some further inquiry ; it might 
 place me in a very awkward situation," She was 
 absently turning over the notes. ** Five thousand 
 pounds ! it is stupendous ! " 
 
 Evans looked very worried ; whatever he knew or 
 did not know about his late master's affairs, at any 
 rate one thing was quite certain : Colonel Massing- 
 ham had not gone to the trouble of obtaining so much 
 money and ensuring its safe and secret delivery to 
 the lady without a very good reason of his own. A 
 passionate loyalty surged up in his breast towards 
 the dead man ; his whole life would not be too much 
 to give, if by that means he could save his master's 
 secret from the prying eyes of the world, and 
 particularly of his wife. But he was an ignorant 
 old fellow, it was a great deal easier for him to decide 
 what must be done than to do it ; and he passed his 
 rough, horny hand over his eyes with a gesture of 
 anxiety. 
 
 " Look here, ma'am," he began, " it's not my 
 place to say what you ought to do. I daresay you'll 
 think it a Hberty I'm taking, but I can't help that. 
 My master was more to me than anybody in the 
 world. I've looked after 'im since he was a boy, 
 dressed 'im and seen to 'im night and day for nigh 
 on forty years. I knew every thought that passed 
 through his mind long before he said a word, and, 
 although he always kept his place same as I kept 
 mine, there wasn't two men in England greater 
 friends than what 'im and me was." He hesitated 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 125 
 
 for a moment as though uncertain how to proceed. 
 " He was a very sensitive man, was Mr. Massingham, 
 and what 'e went through on account of being 
 married to a woman who never valued him nor 
 cared for 'im Hke what she ought to have done, only 
 him and me knows. However, he never said a word, 
 there was no need to ; I see by his look what he was 
 going through time after time ; and what he suffered 
 I suffered too, and worse, because I could do nothing 
 to help 'im. 
 
 " For twenty-five years he put up with 'er, and, to 
 give her 'er due, I don't believe to this day she knows 
 how she spoilt 'is life." He paused again, and a look 
 of intense bitterness spread over his face ; his 
 master's marriage had been a lifelong grievance, 
 and now that he was gone it was almost a tragedy 
 to the faithful old man. " However," he con- 
 tinued, " all that's neither here nor there. I only 
 tell you so you can see for yourself how things has 
 been and the sort of man he was. He was one of 
 the truest and best gentlemen that ever lived ; 
 honest 'e was to 'is backbone, and simple as a child. 
 He was never a man to go and leave five thousand 
 pounds to anyone without he had a good reason to do 
 it, nor yet to do it in a underhand way like what 
 you might take this to be. I am as certain as I sit 
 here that he wrote you a letter telling you why 
 'e's done it, and that letter I mean to find, if I 
 have to turn out every drawer and corner in the 
 'ouse. 
 
 " But meanwhile there's this to be thought of " 
 — he fixed his glittering black eyes intently on 
 her face — " here you have a secret entrusted you by 
 
 I 
 
126 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 a dead man ; you and me is the only living persons 
 that knows of this money. What are you going to 
 do with it ? For Gord's sake, ma'am, for the love of 
 heaven, don't give 'im away ! All these years he's 
 kept it to himself, not a soul has ever known his 
 'eart, only me. I beg of you let his secret die with 
 'im, don't shame him before everybody now he's 
 gone ! I haven't got the words in me mouth to ask 
 
 you properly " His voice quavered pathetically 
 
 and his face worked convulsively as he gazed at her 
 with imploring eyes, awaiting her decision. 
 
 Mrs. Burmester was obviously moved by liis 
 appeal. A piteous little smile played about her lips, 
 and she looked at him with the affection she would 
 have felt for an old servant of her own. 
 
 " I beheve every word you have told me," she 
 began gently. " I think you area dear, faithful old 
 man, and I will certainly help you to keep your 
 master's secret as far as I can. But can you not 
 give me any idea of why the money was sent to me ? 
 Is it for myself or to be used for something which he 
 had explained in his letter ? If I could really feel 
 sure about that I would accept it, and trust to your 
 finding the letter some day. I don't wish to press 
 you, but can you tell me nothing more ? " 
 
 " I could, ma'am," repHed Evans, " I could tell 
 you a story that would bring tears to your eyes, but 
 I mustn't do it, ma'am. All I can say is, that if I 
 was to be struck dead this very minute it's God's 
 truth what I'm telhng you : the money is yours to 
 do what you like with. It's a present from him, he 
 wanted you to have it, and to make sure you got it 
 safe and nobody be any the wiser, he give it to me 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 127 
 
 to 'and you meself. I've done my part, I can't do 
 no more." He sighed wearily. The strain had told 
 upon him and he seemed suddenly to lose the force 
 which had so inspired him : he became merely a 
 shrivelled-up, miserable old man. 
 
 Mrs. Burmester rose with decision. 
 
 " I suppose you are right," she said. "It's one 
 of those extraordinary things that sometimes happen 
 in real life. I will keep the money, and you must 
 look for the letter and let me know directly you find 
 it." 
 
 Evans rose too ; he almost tottered towards 
 her. 
 
 " Thank you, ma'am, thank you. Bless you ! ' 
 he breathed. His face was ashen, and his 
 hands shook violently as he held them out to 
 her. 
 
 " Oh, but you are ill ! " she cried, catching hold o 
 his arm. " Come, sit down by the table and I wil 
 get you some brandy." 
 
 " No, no," he said shakily, "I'm not ill, ma'am, 
 it's only the excitement." 
 
 But he allowed himself to be guided to a chair, and 
 sinking into it threw his arms on the table and bowed 
 his head upon them. The tension of the past few 
 hours had been too much for him, and he broke down 
 utterly, his shoulders heaving as he tried to smother 
 the sobs that were choking in his throat. 
 
 Sybil watched him silently for a few moments ; 
 such absolute abandonment was terrible to see in an 
 old man, and her heart went out to him in passionate 
 sympathy. Presently she laid her hand softly on 
 his shoulder. 
 
128 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 " Don't cry," she said gently, " think of all you 
 have done for him to-day ; and he knows it, I am 
 sure." 
 
 *' Yes, he knows," groaned Evans. " Pray God 
 ril be with him soon — that's all I want now ! " 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 129 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 SCARCELY a week had passed since the 
 meeting of the Vigilance Society ; and, 
 although a week is not very long in which 
 to arrange the details of an organisation, much 
 had already been achieved by its energetic 
 members. 
 
 Miss Manson, in spite of her protestations that she 
 had neither the time nor the money to do very much, 
 had perhaps done more than anybody. The Colonel, 
 who was the cousin of her brother's first wife, had 
 been approached through the medium of the afore- 
 said relations, and had expressed his wilKngness to 
 assist in the good work — but not in any very active 
 manner. It was understood, at any rate, that he 
 would not oppose it, and might be relied upon to use 
 his influence in the matter of concerts for the men, 
 once they were rescued from the clutches of those 
 misguided females who were seeking to entertain 
 them in a less desirable manner. 
 
 A tent would be provided in the grounds of Alton 
 Park, and no obstruction might be expected from 
 head-quarters, unless — and upon this point he was 
 very firm — there was to be any squabbling. Squab- 
 bhng he would not have ; but, provided that the 
 programme could be carried out without it, the 
 
130 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 ladies were at liberty to do what they liked, or what 
 they could — he knew his men well enough to grant 
 that Hcence with a clear conscience. 
 
 Not only had this difficulty been removed from 
 their path, but certain subscriptions had been 
 garnered in for the furtherance of the great scheme. 
 Uncle Percival, much against the grain, had parted 
 with a five-pound note, various guineas had been 
 collected from, other people, half-guineas and even 
 half-crowns had been wrested from the sceptical, 
 and all had been duly entered in a Uttle book by Miss 
 Manson, the energetic secretary. 
 
 Mrs. Massingham had been appointed president, 
 and Mrs. Drake had quite cheerfully subsided into 
 the inferior but less harassing position of vice- 
 president ; the badges had been ordered, and all 
 was ready for a start. But this was where the hitch 
 occurred : everybody wanted to begin ; nobody 
 knew how. Something must be done, and there 
 seemed nobody to do it. Girls were too young, too 
 inexperienced and much too frivolous to be entrusted 
 with so deUcate a mission ; they could hardly be 
 expected to cope with the subject at all ; and it was 
 felt, not without reason, that the girls should be kept 
 out of it. 
 
 There remained, then, the matrons and older un- 
 married women, and, of these, the first were much too 
 comfortable and too lazy to be stirred into activity 
 by a sense of what was due to a body of young men 
 in whom they took only a very faint interest ; and 
 the second, although full of enthusiasm, and eager 
 to put a spoke in the wheel of the flighty and 
 unregenerate, were yet uncertain in their own minds 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 131 
 
 about the propriety of doing so in such a public 
 manner. 
 
 When all was said and done, men were men, 
 whatever their station in Hfe might be ; there were 
 such things as reputations to be considered, and few 
 of the ladies had reached — or cared to admit that 
 they had reached — the age when the purity of their 
 motives might go unquestioned, and they could 
 approach the other sex in a spirit of pure philan- 
 throphy. 
 
 Miss Manson alone, however, had no scruples on 
 the subject ; her enthusiasm was unbounded, and 
 she set about her share of the work with a zeal and 
 energy which should have shamed the other members 
 of the society into instant admiration. But it did 
 not. For some reason, the harder she worked the 
 less credit she got for her labours ; especially from 
 the older married ladies, whose significant glances 
 and covert smiles conveyed a hundred things to each 
 other, which poor Miss Manson would have found it 
 almost impossible to understand. Nor would she 
 have been in the least daunted if she had done so ; 
 she was an extremely practical and sensible woman 
 who had adopted spinsterhood quite frankly as her 
 lot in Hfe, and who, if the truth be told, was almost 
 as intolerant of the complacent absurdities of her 
 married friends as they could possibly be of hers. 
 
 But the deadlock was assuming quite serious 
 proportions. Somebody must be prodded into 
 activity, and Miss Manson, being a woman who never 
 allowed the grass to grow under her feet, decided 
 that the first move must come from Aunt Margaret ; 
 moreover, that if she refused to make it on her own 
 
132 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 account a gentle and discriminating push must b.e 
 administered for the good of the cause. To her 
 credit, it must be recorded that she marshalled her 
 arguments with such consummate skill that little 
 persuasion was needed to set the president in the way 
 she should go : it was quite obvious that, having 
 accepted the duty of leadership, she should proceed 
 to lead. 
 
 " The first thing," said Miss Manson, " is to become 
 acquainted with the camp and some of the men there. 
 You should pay an informal visit, and introduce 
 yourself to them, and possibly to one or two of the 
 officers, although they do not really count for much, 
 as we have Colonel Master son's authority. Wear 
 your badge, of course." 
 
 " I suppose you are right," admitted Mrs. Massing- 
 ham with resignation, " but of course I cannot go 
 alone." 
 
 ** Louisa Drake had better go with you," said Miss 
 Manson. *' I will 'phone her up. What about this 
 afternoon ? " 
 
 " What's to-day — Monday ? " asked Mrs. Massing- 
 ham without much enthusiasm. " Yes, I daresay 
 I might go this afternoon, if Louisa is willing and if 
 we can have the car. I certainly do not feel disposed 
 to hire a carriage from the livery stable, and buses I 
 detest." 
 
 " You shall have the car," Miss Manson assured 
 her. " I will see about it ; Uncle Percival has a 
 cold in his head and is staying in the house to- 
 day." 
 
 There was nothing else for it ; even Louisa failed 
 her, announcing herself as perfectly ready to fall in 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 133 
 
 with any arrangements. The car was therefore 
 ordered, and at three o'clock the same afternoon 
 drove up to the door with Davis at the wheel, and 
 Mrs. Drake, having been picked up on the way, 
 comfortably tucked up in the back seat. 
 
 But the fate which seems to dog the best of good 
 intentions ordained that on Monday afternoon the 
 camp at Alton Park was almost deserted. Man- 
 oeuvres were being held some distance away, and 
 only a few stragglers were to be seen about, those 
 who for some reason or other had not been able or 
 been ordered to join in the day's work. 
 
 " Never mind ! " said Mrs. Drake cheerfully, 
 when the sentry at the gates had volunteered this 
 disappointing information. *' Perhaps it is just as 
 well : we shall be able to have a good look round all 
 by ourselves. We can see their quarters and just 
 say a few words to any one we come across ; I feel 
 myself to be in a very awkward position, but we 
 must do our best." 
 
 Alton Park, like many other of the old homesteads 
 of England at that time, had been lent by its owner 
 to the military authorities for the purpose of 
 quartering troops there. It was a fine old place, 
 the home of generations of country-loving squires. 
 An avenue of massive trees led up to the house 
 itself, which stood nearly half a mile from the 
 entrance gates, and the grounds stretched away for 
 many acres on either side. The camp was pitched 
 on the lower ground near the entrance : long rows of 
 tents, compact little enclosures, and here and there 
 a larger marquee for the mess or the various can- 
 teens. The turf had been sadly marred by the tramp 
 
134 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 of many feet, and in places there were patches of 
 black mud where horses had been tethered. 
 
 As the two ladies approached, the whole place 
 had the desolate and cheerless appearance of a 
 deserted camp ; and Aunt Margaret, what zeal she 
 had considerably damped by their reception, was for 
 turning back. But Mrs. Drake knew the ways of 
 soldiers, and her unerring instinct directed her to 
 the one spot where some one was sure to be found at 
 any hour of the day. A lanky sergeant met them 
 at the entrance of the canteen, in which he had been 
 regaling himself with toasted cheese and hot cocoa, 
 and Mrs. Massingham whispered in some agitation to 
 her cousin. 
 
 " Louisa dear, have you brought any money ? I 
 stupidly left my purse behind, forgetting that we 
 should need some for tips." 
 
 " Indeed, no," said Mrs. Drake. " At least I may 
 have an odd shilling in my bag ; I daresay that will 
 be enough." 
 
 The sergeant saluted smartly, and stood waiting 
 for them to speak. His bright steel-blue eyes took 
 them both in at a glance, and he returned their 
 scrutiny with more assurance than was quite 
 respectful in a private soldier. 
 
 Mrs. Massingham, now that the moment for 
 action had arrived, was instantly inspired with her 
 wonted self-confidence ; she looked at the man 
 with a slightly imperious yet pleasant air, which 
 should at once have put him in his proper 
 place. 
 
 " Is there an officer in charge here ? " she inquired. 
 
 The sergeant smiled easily. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 135 
 
 *' I guess it's me you want," he replied with a 
 pronounced Canadian drawl. 
 
 " Are you in charge of the camp ? " pursued the 
 lady with upHfted eyebrows. 
 
 " Sure/' said the Canadian. ** Anything I kin 
 do for you ? ' ' 
 
 Explanations followed, and, after that, more 
 explanations. The young man, who looked like a 
 British Tommy and behaved like a salesman in an 
 American boot store, was very hard to convince. It 
 seemed that he had a prejudice against conducting 
 strange ladies round the camp, that there was 
 nothing to show, and, further, that if there had been 
 it was not his job to show it. 
 
 This Uttle opposition was all that was needed to 
 arouse in the breast of Aunt Margaret a fervid 
 desire to see all that there was to be seen. Until 
 that moment her feelings on the subject had been 
 cool to the point of indifference, but, at liis glances 
 of amused toleration at the absurdity of ladies who 
 asked too many questions, she rose to a pitch of 
 enthusiasm of which an hour ago she would hardly 
 have believed herself capable. 
 
 Determination gathered in her eye, her voice grew 
 imperative and she waved the presumptuous youth 
 aside with a gesture of authority as she passed before 
 him into the canteen. Mrs. Drake, thankful that fate 
 had given the handling of a difficult situation into 
 abler hands than her own,toddled obediently after her. 
 
 A cursory inspection of the interior assured her 
 that everything there was perfectly in order, clean 
 and suitable for the needs of the men ; and she 
 demanded with unabated ardour to be conducted 
 
136 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 further afield. In vain did the protesting sergeant 
 insist that ladies were not allowed within the lines. 
 Argument was futile, his word fell on deaf ears : she 
 had come to see the men's quarters and see them she 
 would. It was indeed a happy coincidence that they 
 were empty, and she was resolved to take the fullest 
 advantage of it. 
 
 *' And that big, square tent standing there 
 alone ? " she inquired cheerfully, after having in- 
 spected a varied assortment of old boots and dirty 
 underclothing, which seemed to constitute the 
 personal belongings of the absent men. 
 
 " That's where the doctor hangs out," replied the 
 sergeant. 
 
 His good-nature had withstood the strain of the 
 first few minutes, and he was prepared to make 
 himself agreeable in his own way. 
 
 " I should Hke to see it," said Mrs. Massingham, 
 striding off in that direction. 
 
 " Please yourself," said the sergeant, " but if you 
 take my tip you'll give it a miss." 
 
 " Is there any infection in the camp ? " asked 
 Mrs. Drake nervously. 
 
 " I wasn't thinking about infection," said the 
 young man. 
 
 Mrs. Massingham was already half-way across the 
 wide stretch of turf which led to the medical 
 quarters, so Mrs. Drake hurried after her, and the 
 sergeant brought up the rear. As the trio reached 
 the tent, the two ladies hesitated for a moment, and 
 the sergeant, passing before them, put his head in 
 the narrow opening, and inquired if the doctor was 
 within. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 137 
 
 There was a muffled sound of voices, and a moment 
 later he reappeared with a grin on his face. 
 
 " The doctor's not there," he said. 
 
 " But I am sure he would not mind our just 
 looking inside," remarked Mrs. Massingham firmly. 
 
 The sergeant hesitated, and was lost. 
 
 " It's no place for a lady," he warned her, but his 
 tone did not carry conviction. 
 
 " Oh, nonsense," she replied, " we are here to do 
 our duty. I certainly feel that we ought to see it. 
 Please let me pass, sergeant, I wish to go inside." 
 
 " Well, don't blame me," laughed the man, as she 
 stooped to enter through the narrow doorway. 
 
 There was a sudden scuffle in the dim interior, 
 and she found herself confronted by an angry-looking 
 man, stripped to his bare skin, and clutching 
 feverishly at a tunic, which he was trying vainly to 
 wrap round his loins. 
 
 " Oh, dear me, I beg your pardon ! " she ex- 
 claimed, beating a hasty retreat. 
 
 But, unfortunately, Mrs. Drake was already in 
 the doorway, and the two ladies collided, panic- 
 struck, against each other. It was an awkward 
 moment. The unhappy man — who had been under- 
 going an examination at the doctor's hands — 
 utterly unhinged by this unexpected apparition, 
 broke out into a torrent of regrettably bad language 
 — by no other means could he have expressed the 
 depth and violence of his feelings — and at this crisis 
 the doctor himself, who had been to fetch an 
 instrument from his sleeping tent, appeared on the 
 scene. 
 
 Apologies and explanations followed quickly on 
 
138 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 the heels of one another ; but the doctor was too 
 busy to Usten to either one or the other. His patient 
 was standing in the cold : he had no time to waste 
 on the amenities of social intercourse. 
 
 " Very sorry," he remarked unfeelingly, " they 
 ought to have warned you. You'll excuse me, I 
 know ? " and he was gone. 
 
 " Margaret," said Mrs. Drake, with more firmness 
 than she had hitherto shown, " I think we will go 
 home now, dear. We have seen all we came to see 
 — and more. There is nothing else to be done." 
 
 And Aunt Margaret agreed with her. It had been 
 a disappointing visit, and the two ladies returned in 
 silence to the waiting car. 
 
 " I have quite made up my mind," said Mrs. 
 Massingham, when they were comfortably tucked up 
 in their rugs and the car was speeding silently over 
 the smooth road. " Alice Manson may do as she 
 Hkes, I shall not interfere with her in the least ; but, 
 for my part, I have done with the Vigilance Society. 
 I do not approve of it at all." 
 
 " Nor I," replied Mrs. Drake. " I do not feel 
 that we are wanted there." 
 
 " Exactly my feeUng," assented Aunt Margaret, 
 " although I shall not say so. If people like to 
 undertake work of this kind we ought not to put 
 obstacles in their way. Ahce Manson is a good, 
 hard-working woman, she hkes this sort of thing, she 
 is therefore the right person to do it. I have quite 
 enough troubles of my own without interfering with 
 those of other people." 
 
 '* Yet, of course, one must not be selfish," Mrs. 
 Drake reminded her. " I always say, what with the 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 139 
 
 war and one thing and another, one cannot hope to 
 escape trouble ; it seems to be all around one, we 
 must expect our share." 
 
 " And am I not having my share ? " cried Aunt 
 Margaret indignantly. " I should like to know who 
 has done and is still doing more than I am ! No one 
 can say that I am a selfish woman, nor a woman who 
 has ever shirked her responsibiUties ; as you know, I 
 have always made a point of doing my duty whatever 
 the inconvenience to myself might have been." 
 
 "I'm sure you have, dear," murmured Mrs. 
 Drake soothingly. 
 
 " It would surprise you, Louisa, if you knew the 
 terrible anxiety in my mind at the present moment," 
 continued Aunt Margaret, now thoroughly into her 
 stride. " There are many things which I have not 
 told you, and which are, perhaps, better kept to 
 myself, since they concern other people too. There 
 are times when I simply do not know which way to 
 turn, what with one thing and another ! First poor 
 Wilfred's death, and then Bernard taking it into his 
 head to join the army after all we have spent on his 
 education ; and, as if that were not enough, I am 
 saddled with that absurd little Belgian spy, or what- 
 ever he was — so rude and ungrateful running off 
 without a word after all I have done for him ! 
 However, I have washed my hands of him. Mrs. 
 Burmester telephoned to apologise for his behaviour, 
 but I was so annoyed about the whole thing that I 
 really could not bring myself to speak to her — I 
 asked Lovie to do so instead. It appears that she 
 was very upset about it, and I am not surprised ; 
 it just shows how foolish it is to act on the impulse 
 
140 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 of the moment ; never again will I allow myself to 
 be persuaded against my better judgment into doing 
 things I do not want to do." 
 
 " Yes, we were so sorry to hear about it," replied 
 Mrs. Drake, " especially as Monty was responsible 
 for your taking him in. However, he is gone now, 
 silly little man ; there is no need for you to think any 
 more about him. As for Bernard, it is very unlikely 
 that he will ever be sent to the Front — the war will be 
 over long before he is ready to go — the training will 
 do him good, and he is thoroughly enjoying himself, 
 I am sure. I think, my dear, you are upsetting 
 yourself unnecessarily ; after all, you are much 
 better off than most of the poor things who have lost 
 their husbands : you have money and a comfortable 
 home. I really think you ought to be grateful that 
 matters are no worse." 
 
 Mrs. Massingham made no reply. It is annoying 
 to be told that you have nothing to worry about 
 when you know perfectly well that you have ; 
 galling also to be refused sympathy at any time, but 
 especially when you go out of your way to ask for it. 
 She felt that, to add to her grievances, she was being 
 sadly misjudged, accused of making a fuss about 
 nothing — and this by Louisa Drake, of all people ! 
 The thought was intolerable ! The temptation to 
 prove to her how utterly mistaken she was in her 
 estimation of the situation was irresistible. Aunt 
 Margaret succumbed without a struggle. 
 
 " Because I do not go about advertising my 
 troubles to the whole world," she began with 
 dignity, " that is not to say that they do not exist ; 
 and I should have thought that you, at any rate. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 141 
 
 Louisa, would have known that I do not complain 
 without a very good reason. There is a certain 
 matter which is causing me the gravest anxiety, and 
 now that we are on the subject I should be glad of 
 your advice, although I am very loath to speak of it, 
 even to you." 
 
 ** Fm sure you needn't mind what you say to 
 me," observed Mrs. Drake cheerfully. " We've 
 known each other long enough to say anything. 
 What's the matter ? " 
 
 ,, Did it ever occur to you that Wilfred was 
 carrying on an intrigue, an affair with some woman ? " 
 asked Mrs. Massingham, plunging headlong into her 
 subject. 
 
 " No, it certainly never did," said Mrs. Drake 
 vigorously. 
 
 " Well, he was," affirmed Aunt Margaret. 
 
 " Never ! You do surprise me," exclaimed Mrs. 
 Drake. 
 
 " I knew you would be surprised," said Mrs. 
 Massingham, beginning to feel much more friendly. 
 '* You can perhaps imagine the shock it was to me 
 when I heard of it. I could hardly beheve it." 
 
 " But are you quite sure ? " 
 
 ** There is not the slightest doubt about it," 
 repHed Aunt Margaret firmly. " I learned about it 
 by pure accident after his death. I think I will not go 
 into that matter, if you do not mind ; it is, of course, 
 a very painful subject and I would rather not go 
 into details. You will quite understand, I am sure." 
 
 " Quite," said Mrs. Drake with sympathy ; " there 
 is no need to say more than you wish, although of 
 course you may rely upon whatever you tell me 
 
 K 
 
142 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 going no further. I shall not say a word to any- 
 body/' 
 
 "I am sure of that," said Mrs. Massingham 
 warmly. 
 
 ** Who was the woman ? Was it anybody we 
 know ? But of course it could not be." 
 
 " That is what I have yet to find out," replied 
 Mrs. Massingham. " Beyond the fact that her 
 name is Grace, I have no information about her. 
 But I do know, which speaks for itself, that the week 
 before Wilfred left home he realised five thousand 
 pounds' worth of stock of which no trace whatever 
 can be found. The money was paid over to him in 
 notes and has simply disappeared. I look upon 
 that as the clearest proof one can have." 
 
 " How very annoying ! " exclaimed Mrs. Drake. 
 " That I do call really annoying ! Of course men 
 are men, we all know that, but five thousand pounds 
 is five thousand pounds. Can nothing be done ? 
 Surely a solicitor or some one should be consulted ? " 
 
 " I have already seen old Mr. Gouldsmith about 
 it," said Mrs. Massingham, " and he says it is useless 
 to think of recovering it, even if we knew where it 
 had gone to. Wilfred had a perfect right to make 
 anyone a present if he wished to do so. The woman 
 has played her cards well." 
 
 Mrs. Drake sighed. 
 
 ** How weak and foolish men are ! " she said. 
 " Fancy either of us parting with five thousand 
 pounds for that sort of thing ! Can you imagine it ? 
 What men are made of I do not know." 
 
 "It is incredible the influence a certain type of 
 woman has over them," admitted Mrs. Massingham ; 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 143 
 
 *' anything they Uke to ask for is cheerfully given 
 them ; whereas a man's wife may slave for years 
 looking after his children and keeping his house and 
 yet be grudged a five-pound note for a new dress. 
 It is a phase of men's character I have never been 
 able to understand." 
 
 *' However, there it is ! " sighed Mrs. Drake. 
 '* We all have our faults. What you tell me about 
 poor Wilfred is very, very sad, and I can quite 
 understand what a trouble it is to you, my dear ; 
 but if you take my advice you will try and not think 
 about it. Whatever it was, it is all over now, the 
 money is gone, and as far as you are concerned there 
 is no more to be said about it. I should try and 
 banish it from my mind." 
 
 " That was what I had intended doing," said Mrs. 
 Massingham, not very truthfully. " I had decided 
 that as nothing could be done it would be fooHsh to 
 dwell upon it. But now something else has cropped 
 up. I have every reason to suspect that the woman 
 is pestering Bernard in some way. He refuses to say 
 a word about her, but this I know : he is involved in 
 some sort of underhand business with a woman ; he 
 meets her secretly, and will not even disclose her 
 name to me. He admits that she was known to his 
 father, and has given me his solemn word that he 
 himself is not mixed up in any disgraceful intrigue. 
 What else can I think, except that she is using her 
 position to extract money from him ? One knows 
 what these people are — insatiable ! " 
 
 " Oh dear," said Mrs. Drake, " but this is serious. 
 One never knows where these sort of things lead 
 to. I quite agree with you that something ought to 
 
144 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 be done. What you really want is a man to deal 
 with it." 
 
 " And yet who is there ? " asked Mrs. Massingham 
 dolefully. " I cannot put my finger on one single 
 man of all the men I know whom I would really 
 trust in such a matter. I have lain awake hours 
 at a time wondering what is to be done ; the whole 
 thing is getting so on my nerves that I never seem 
 to have a moment's rest. The strain is terrible ! " 
 
 " Indeed, you poor thing, it is," cried warm- 
 hearted Mrs. Drake. " I am so thankful you have 
 told me all about it ; I feel quite sure that between 
 us we can think of a way out." 
 
 The two women relapsed into silence, each busy 
 with her thoughts as the car sped smoothly down 
 Shooter's Hill Road. In another five minutes they 
 would be at home. 
 
 " I have it ! " exclaimed Mrs. Drake at last. 
 " Will you let me tell Monty and see what he can 
 do ? He is a great deal shrewder than you think, in 
 fact, I look upon him as possessing more brains than 
 all the other children put together. I am convinced 
 he would be able to help us ; and he is so discreet, 
 you need never be afraid of it going any further." 
 
 " Do you think so ? " demurred Mrs. Massingham. 
 
 She was not quite sure about Monty, his un- 
 doubted possession of brains had always made him 
 an object of suspicion. 
 
 " I do think so," repeated Monty's mother with 
 conviction. " A man's hand is needed if you are to 
 save Bernard from entanglements. It is, of course, 
 quite natural that you should disHke people knowing 
 about poor Wilfred's goings-on, but you have to 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 145 
 
 think of the boy ; he is little more than a child, and 
 certainly ought not to be allowed to ruin himself for 
 want of a Httle help. It is more than likely that, if 
 she is really clever, he would pay her anything rather 
 than that the affair should come to your ears. I 
 know what boys are." 
 
 " I think you are right," admitted Mrs. Massing- 
 ham, " and naturally I do not for a moment con- 
 sider my own feelings ; but there is just the doubt in 
 my mind that perhaps he knows nothing about it, 
 and if that were so I would not for worlds have him 
 learn the truth. It is possible that he is carrying 
 on a flirtation with some silly girl who wishes him to 
 keep it a secret from us all. Young people are so 
 romantic and Bernard is easily led, though difficult 
 in many ways. I must say, I should like to be sure 
 where I am before telling him the whole story. It is 
 so very perplexing to know what to do for the 
 best ! " 
 
 " There is only one thing to be done," said Mrs. 
 Drake with conviction ; " the matter must be put in 
 the hands of some capable man, and, although I say 
 it, no better man could be found than my Monty. 
 He is a relation, and Bernard likes him and would 
 not resent his interference. Do let me tell him ! " 
 
 Mrs. Massingham heaved a deep sigh as the car 
 turned in at the drive leading to the house. 
 
 " Very well, then," she agreed, " let Monty be 
 told." 
 
146 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 SO Monty was told. The whole of the scandal- 
 ous story was unfolded and laid bare before 
 him, and he inspected it impartially from all 
 sides. His attitude, however, was not entirely 
 satisfactory. Mrs. Massingham thought him some- 
 what lacking in sympathy ; and there was a certain 
 ruthlessness about him which at times was almost 
 disconcerting. Questions were asked which it would 
 have been more tactful to leave unasked, and Aunt 
 Margaret had, more than once, to remind him that a 
 natural delicacy of feeling prohibited the discussion 
 of certain matters between them. 
 
 There was, for instance, no need for him to insist 
 on knowing where the information of his uncle's 
 infamy had come from in the first place, and who 
 was responsible for Grace. Aunt Margaret was more 
 than a match for him on that point ; she was not to 
 be browbeaten by a young man whom she had 
 known in the nursery, however brainy and worldly- 
 wise he might have become since then. Beyond the 
 fact that the news had been imparted by letter from 
 an unknown person she would not go ; and no one 
 can blame her for her reticence, since Mr. Barnes's 
 unfortunate communication had, by this time, 
 become pubUc property, a revised version of the 
 same having been handed round for family perusal 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 147 
 
 in which the word Margaret took the place of Grace. 
 
 It was asking too much that she should be ex- 
 pected to explain that away ; and Captain Drake, 
 finding himself up against an impregnable barrier 
 of prejudice, promptly retired and attacked the 
 position from another side. At any rate, there 
 could be no doubt about the money. It was gone 
 beyond recall. There was, however, the chance 
 that some record of it had been left behind ; perhaps 
 the number of the notes had been written down in a 
 pocket-book, in which case it would not be difficult 
 to trace them. Uncle Wilfred's papers should be 
 carefully sifted for evidence ; possibly an address 
 might be found which on further investigation would 
 throw more light on the subject. These and other 
 bright suggestions brought comfort to the heart of 
 Aunt Margaret, and a sense of security. He was 
 undoubtedly an astute young man whose business- 
 like grip of the situation would be of the greatest 
 assistance to her ; and the interview had concluded 
 with expressions of cordiality on either side. 
 
 But it must be admitted that Captain Drake, on 
 his way up to town that afternoon, did not quite 
 share the optimism of his respected aunt. He did 
 not believe that she would ever learn the true story 
 of Grace, nor, it must be confessed, had he the 
 slightest intention of helping her to do so. It was 
 his opinion that Uncle Wilfred's secrets might very 
 well be allowed to die with him. Whoever Grace 
 might be, her innings was over ; and, provided that 
 she was not involving Bernard in further com- 
 plications, he thought she could safely be left to 
 work out her own salvation. 
 
148 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 He had, moreover, affairs of his own to consider, 
 much more urgent and more engrossing than were 
 those of Aunt Margaret. 
 
 We have not said very much about Monty Drake, 
 because there has been so much to say about other 
 people ; but, as a matter of fact, Monty was rather 
 nice, and a great deal more interesting than certain 
 of those whom we have been obliged to consider 
 first. It seemed that his role in life was to lie low 
 until something wanted doing ; his self-effacing 
 manner said as much, and the steady glint of his 
 red-brown eyes would have told anyone who knew 
 how to read them that when his moment came he 
 would not be found wanting. He never talked 
 much, seldom smiled, and always aimed at being so 
 exactly like other people that you could not tell the 
 difference. His ideals, whatever they were, were 
 securely locked in the inmost recesses of his being, 
 and his heart, if he possessed such a thing, had never 
 once been seen airing itself on his sleeve. 
 
 He was, however, quite human, although he did 
 not always appear so, and his thoughts, as he sat in 
 the corner of the railway carriage that afternoon, 
 were not nearly so exalted as from his expression one 
 might have judged them to be. His air of cold 
 reserve, and the detached indifference with which he 
 occasionally glanced at his fellow-passengers may 
 have indicated to them that he was preoccupied 
 with the grave affairs of his profession ; but we 
 ourselves are not to be taken in by his elegant 
 manners, nor does the stony obliviousness of his 
 glass eye impress us in the least. It is our privilege 
 to inspect at our will the secret interior of his mind, 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 149 
 
 and we will proceed to do so without any delicacy 
 whatever. 
 
 Once past the barrier which so successfully kept 
 out other people, we shall find much to interest us. 
 A fierce combat is raging behind that calm exterior ; 
 one half of him is furiously at odds with the other 
 half : liis natural instincts are clamouring against 
 his acquired convictions, and he himself is standing 
 aloof, looking on at the conflict and hardly knowing 
 which side to take. We know at once what is the 
 matter with him. He is in love. Not desperately 
 and violently in love, but in that uneasy stage when 
 he fears he is and hopes he is not. He knows his 
 instincts to be right, yet despises them ; they are 
 unruly brutes who have led him astray before and 
 will do so again if allowed to have their heads. On 
 the other hand, much as he admires and trusts his 
 intellect, there is nothing warm or comforting about 
 it, and he is already sadly in need of comfort. His 
 whole soul cries out for it, every fibre of his being 
 yearns for that satisfaction which his mind would 
 deny him. 
 
 As far as our limited observation takes us, this 
 horrid tumult of the emotions is the modern mani- 
 festation of that mighty force which in the glorious 
 days of old made gods of men — and slaves of women. 
 The time is unhappily long past when a man, 
 desiring a mate, might seize her by the hair of her 
 head and carry her off, squeahng with joy and fright, 
 to make her his own ; compHcations have since 
 arisen which make such a riotous proceeding 
 inadvisable and even indecent. He must now go 
 down on his bended knees to crave what he would 
 
150 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 once have demanded as his right ; and she, at heart 
 as wild as ever, is obhged by subterfuge and evasion 
 to surround herself with an atmosphere of in- 
 accessibiHty in order to give zest to what would other- 
 wise be a tame affair. It must be admitted, 
 however, that with our finer perceptions, and 
 the higher organism on which we pride ourselves, 
 we do not require the stimulus of these primitive 
 methods to stir our emotions into activity. Love is 
 still as exciting, even if it is not so brutal as it was, 
 and quite thrilling enough to satisfy the average 
 mortal. 
 
 Captain Drake was, of course, not concerned with 
 any of these reflections, since it is not possible to 
 generalise when the particular is absorbing all one's 
 attention. He was, to come down to bare facts, 
 wondering whether he would have finished his 
 business at the War Office, the Stores, and his club 
 in time to call on Sybil Burmester before dinner. 
 We, who know, are not in any doubt about it, con- 
 sidering that the telephone would have served him 
 quite as well as a personal interview, and that he 
 had gone up to town for no other reason than to pay 
 a visit to his lady. But he had a Spartan habit of 
 mind ; his emotions had always been relegated to a 
 back seat, and he would not admit, even to himself, 
 that anything more serious was afoot than a pleasant 
 friendship with a woman whom he had known for 
 many years and always liked extremely. 
 
 It does not therefore surprise us in the least to find 
 him, a few hours later, comfortably installed in the 
 drawing-room of the little flat in Victoria Street, 
 holding a spirited conversation with Mrs. Burmester, 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 151 
 
 who was in her bedroom doing her hair. On his 
 arrival it had transpired that she was dining out 
 that evening, and that, in accordance with her usual 
 custom, she was dressing early so that she might 
 have a restful half-hour before it was time to leave 
 the house. Monty had, of course, politely offered to 
 retire, but she would not hear of it. 
 
 " I shan't be ten minutes," she called out, " and I 
 want to ask you a thousand questions. The 
 cigarettes are on the mantelpiece and the whisky is 
 in the dining-room." 
 
 But Monty wanted neither. He settled himself in 
 her own large easy chair, and looked about him with a 
 wistful expression, which would have annoyed him 
 extremely if he had been able to see it. Everything 
 was so cosy and homelike, so entirely congenial ; he 
 could not help thinking how nice it would be if, at 
 the end of his day's work, he had a ripping httle 
 place like that to return to. How delightful if he 
 could stroll along the passage, quite naturally and 
 as a matter of course, and idly watch her as she 
 dressed ! He could imagine her flitting about the 
 room, perhaps in a little fluffy petticoat or some soft 
 trailing garment such as women wear ; and at the 
 thought of such dear intimacy a sudden spasm 
 clutched at his heart and he held his breath for one 
 giddy moment. 
 
 "Did you get your draft off all right ? " called Sybil. 
 
 " Er — what do you say ? " he asked, pulling 
 himself together with a jerk. 
 
 " Oh, very well, if you'd rather go to sleep, don't 
 mind me ! " she laughed. " I said, did you get 
 your draft off yesterday ? " 
 
152 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 " Nicely, thanks," he replied, " two hundred and 
 fifty of them, and young Blaithwaite in charge, 
 lucky devil ! I wish they had sent me instead. 
 Tell me when you are ready for me to come and do 
 up your frock 1 " 
 
 " It fastens down the front, thank you," said 
 Sybil. 
 
 "I'm just as good at doing up the front as the 
 back," he suggested hopefully. 
 
 There was a little scurry in the passage and she 
 entered the room, clad in the silken draperies of his 
 imagination. 
 
 " I'm not dressed yet," she announced, " it's 
 quite obvious, isn't it ? But I just want to remind 
 you that Daisy is in the kitchen and that your 
 remarks are most reckless and indiscreet. Pass me 
 a cigarette ! " 
 
 He handed her his case, his eyes on the soft folds 
 of her gown and the scarcely veiled lines of her figure. 
 
 " I know they are," he admitted. " I feel both 
 reckless and indiscreet to-night." 
 
 " You ! " she laughed at him. " I shouldn't 
 have thought you ever felt either ; I always look 
 upon you as the embodiment of discretion and 
 propriety." 
 
 " What a horrid thing to say ! Do you really 
 think so ? " 
 
 He leaned forward, and his hands, as he clasped 
 them between his knees, trembled ever so slightly. 
 
 " Let me see," repHed Sybil, regarding him with 
 frank criticism. " Yes, you are very discreet, very 
 cautious — and fastidious ; but whether you are 
 proper also I do not know. Tell me." 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 153 
 
 Captain Drake waited a moment, then turned 
 away from her and looked into the fire. 
 
 " I am a perfect volcano," he said gravely. 
 
 " Not really ? " she asked lightly. *' How in- 
 teresting for you ! " 
 
 Her tone seemed to taunt him, and he raised his 
 eyes and met her quizzical smile with a sudden 
 intensity that gave her a most unexpected thrill. 
 
 " And you are too," he added quickly. " You 
 can't deceive me. I know it — I feel it. There is a 
 little thin coating of veneer, but underneath you 
 are like I am. Can you deny it ? " 
 
 His eyes were burning now, and so compelling 
 that for a moment her self-possession deserted her, 
 and her glance fluttered a little. The cigarette, 
 however, came in usefully, and she inspected the 
 glowing end of it with an air of deep interest. 
 
 " Do you really want to know ? " she asked 
 steadily. 
 
 " I want to know very much," said Monty 
 earnestly. 
 
 " Well, then," she replied, pausing to choose her 
 words, " I can hardly tell you what I am like 
 inside. I often wonder myself what I am made of. 
 Sometimes I feel that I could love desperately and 
 frightfully ; and other times I think I must be made 
 of stone." 
 
 " But surely you know," he persisted. " A 
 woman doesn't reach your age without experiences ; 
 men have made love to you all your life, I suppose. 
 Do you mean to tell me that you have never been 
 moved by them ? Surely you must have been ? " 
 
 " My dear Monty," she replied, with more con- 
 
154 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 fidence now that the moment of panic was over, " I 
 am always moved when men make love to me, so 
 much so that I often marvel to myself how I keep 
 my balance. A man in love is one of the most 
 touching and pathetic things on earth, and I am a 
 romantic idiot, as you know. But, somehow, I 
 don't know how to explain it, I seem to feel it all on 
 the surface. I suffer, it is true, but not for myself, 
 or because of my own feelings — it is a sort of 
 reflection of their emotions. I'm sure you don't in 
 the least understand what I mean," she added 
 helplessly. 
 
 " No, I don't, quite," he admitted. " Do you 
 mean to say that you have never, in spite of all your 
 affairs, been in love ? " 
 
 Mrs. Burmester looked thoughtful. 
 
 " Not properly," she said. " It sounds dreadfully 
 heartless, doesn't it ? But indeed I am very far 
 from that. I think it must be that my idea of love 
 is such a high one that I never can beheve the Httle 
 foolish, transient spurts of affection which I have 
 known are the real thing. I am fond of several 
 men, yet, if it came to the point, there is not one of 
 them whom I should like to marry. You see, I have 
 been married once, and I know what it means." 
 
 " But I don't call that marriage at all," said 
 Monty. " It stands to reason that you couldn't 
 care a rap about old Burmester, nobody could, and 
 you were such a child." 
 
 He looked long and steadily at her, but this time 
 she was on her guard, and maintained her composure. 
 
 ** I wish I could read your thoughts ! " he said, 
 at length. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 155 
 
 Sybil glanced up at the tiny clock on the chimney 
 piece. 
 
 " I will reveal them to you," she said lightly. " It 
 is now a quarter-past seven, and at a quarter to 
 eight a nice, kind gentleman is to call and escort me 
 out to dinner ! " 
 
 Monty rose, and stood facing her with his back to 
 the fire. All trace of emotion had passed from his 
 expression, he was the same cool, self-possessed 
 man she had always known him to be. 
 
 " And I am to take myself off as soon as possible ? " 
 he suggested amiably. 
 
 '* I'm afraid you really must," she answered, her 
 eyes travelling with approval down his well-knit, 
 soldierly figure. " Do you know, I like your kit, 
 I'm so pleased you have to wear it always." 
 
 " It's more than I am," he replied laconically. 
 " Who's the nice, kind gentleman who is escorting 
 you out to dinner ? " 
 
 '* You haven't met him," she said. "He is a 
 Major Cartwright, a wild and woolly South African 
 miner, quite an exciting person." 
 
 " Where did you pick him up ? " asked Monty 
 without much interest. 
 
 " You remember Freddy Lester who came home 
 to rejoin a few months ago ? I met them together at 
 the Stores, and on the strength of that Major 
 Cartwright took it upon himself to call." 
 
 " What infernal cheek ! " said Captain Drake. 
 " I hate these gilded colonials with their absurd 
 titles ; there are a lot of them masquerading around 
 in uniform ; the War Ofiice ought to put a stop 
 to it." 
 
156 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 " Never mind," said Sybil lightly. " He's most 
 entertaining, and very intent on catching German 
 spies. He was here for two hours the other night, 
 watching the flat opposite from my balcony. I 
 watched too ; we had a most exciting evening 
 together." 
 
 *' He's probably a spy himself," said Monty with 
 some heat, " these mongrel sort of chaps never 
 know which side they're on. Give 'em a uniform 
 to swagger about in, and they'd just as soon fight 
 for the Germans as for us." 
 
 " Indeed, you're quite wrong ! " protested Sybil. 
 '* He's as loyal as possible, frightfully keen he is. 
 Don't be so narrow-minded ! " 
 
 "I'm nothing of the kind ! " said Captain Drake 
 vehemently. " But I know these sort of chaps, 
 and you don't. They're a treacherous lot of hounds. 
 Look at the way they're going on at present ! The 
 papers keep it all very dark, but I can assure you the 
 whole of South Africa is seething with disloyalty. 
 What's he doing over here ? " 
 
 " I really don't know," said Sybil with in- 
 difference. " What does it matter ? I made him 
 buy a couple of tickets for the Belgian performance 
 at the Gaiety, and he asked me to dine and go with 
 him." 
 
 " Of course you must please yourself," said 
 Monty curtly. " If you like to dine in public with 
 that sort of bounder it's nothing to do with me. 
 You'll probably regret it, but you'll know better 
 next time he asks you." 
 
 Sybil stared at him in surprise. 
 
 " I do think you are quite the rudest person ! " she 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 157 
 
 exclaimed indignantly. " Why on earth you 
 should lose your temper in this silly way, I don't 
 know." 
 
 " I haven't lost my temper," remarked Monty 
 evenly, " I am only warning you, so that when he 
 tries to kiss you, on the way home, you won't be 
 taken by surprise." 
 
 They were standing facing each other now, their 
 eyes nearly on a level : hers full of a wondering 
 resentment ; his bitter, and blazing with a passion 
 which he was controlHng only with difficulty. 
 Neither, for the moment, was able to speak. Then 
 Sybil, with a sudden movement, broke the spell. 
 
 "It's very kind of you," she said, with a faint 
 smile of amusement, " but I don't think any man 
 would kiss me unless I allowed him to." 
 
 An ominous light flashed into Monty's eyes. 
 
 " Don't you ? " he cried. 
 
 His voice was low and vibrating with excitement ; 
 and she stepped backwards, her heart warning her of 
 danger ahead. But not in time. Before she could 
 escape him his two arms were around her and he 
 was holding her in a vice. His Hps found hers, and 
 he poured out his pent-up passion on her un- 
 responsive mouth, crushing her to him till she almost 
 cried out in fear of him. 
 
 It was all over in one blind moment, and they 
 parted as quickly as they had come together. A 
 deathly pallor alone showed what it had been to 
 her ; but he was trembling, and his breath came in 
 deep gasps from between his clenched teeth. 
 
 " I'm so sorry," he murmured. " I was a brute ! *' 
 
 Sybil said nothing; she was struggUng with a 
 
 L 
 
158 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 feeling of terrible faintness, and leaned her arm on 
 the mantelpiece for support. 
 
 He held out his hand. 
 
 " Forgive me, Sybil," he implored. " Dash it ! 
 I couldn't help it ! " 
 
 Still she made no sign, and he moved nearer to her, 
 better under control now that the frenzied moment 
 was over ; but there was an eagerness in his face 
 which she had never seen there before. 
 
 " I didn't mean to tell you yet," he said. " If I 
 came through all right I was going to tell you 
 afterwards ; but you drove me mad talking about 
 other men kissing you. Do you understand ? " 
 
 " No," said Sybil coldly, "I'm afraid I don't." 
 
 " Oh, don't look like that ! " he begged. " Did 
 I hurt you ? I hardly knew what I was doing. 
 Sybil ! " He passed his arm round her again, but 
 this time he was very gentle, and his voice was low 
 and persuasive. " Look at me," he said, trying to 
 meet her averted eyes. " Tell me you forgive me." 
 
 " Why did you do it ? " murmured Sybil. " I 
 thought we were too good friends for that." 
 
 ** You see we're not ! " he said, with a hint of 
 triumph. " We can never be friends any more. 
 Will you marry me ? " 
 
 With a sudden restive jerk Sybil set herself free 
 of him, she looked him squarely in the face. 
 
 " Now that's the one thing I don't want to do," 
 she remarked distinctly. " I will forgive you for 
 kissing me, but for mercy's sake don't ask me to 
 marry you ! " 
 
 Monty smiled patiently at her. 
 
 " But I want you to," he urged. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 159 
 
 '* Never ! " she replied with determination. " I 
 am quite happy as I am, so are you. Neither of us 
 wants to get married to anybody." 
 
 Monty looked curiously at her. 
 
 " I wonder if you really mean that," he asked 
 slowly. 
 
 ** Yes, I mean it," but her eyes were on the fire 
 and she did not raise them. 
 
 Monty straightened himself. His lips under his 
 closely clipped moustache were firmly set together, 
 but a slightly ironic smile played round the corners 
 of them. 
 
 '* In that case," he said with composure, " there 
 is nothing more to be said, unless," he added 
 courteously, *' you wish to tell me that you will 
 always be a sister to me ? " 
 
 Sybil looked up and met his eyes, this time with 
 all her old candour. 
 
 " I will gladly tell you that, if you like," she 
 laughed. 
 
 " I think not," said Monty firmly. " Good 
 night." 
 
 He turned, and left the room without another 
 word. 
 
i6o LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 WHEN the door closed behind Monty 
 Drake, Sybil sat very still for several 
 minutes. She had an extraordinary 
 feeUng that something of herself had gone with him, 
 and that what was left did not matter very much. 
 In imagination she followed him downstairs and out 
 into the street ; she saw him striding along the dim 
 thoroughfare towards his club, and the grim bitter- 
 ness of his face as the light from an occasional lamp 
 fell upon it. It saddened her to think that perhaps 
 he would not be able to eat any dinner ; he would sit 
 in a big arm-chair with a whisky and soda, hold- 
 ing a paper before his eyes and pretending to 
 read. 
 
 Poor darling ! She knew him well enough to 
 realise that her refusal had hurt him in his most 
 vulnerable spot ; his pride had been wounded, and, 
 although neither she nor anyone else would ever see 
 any sign of it, her heart ached to think of the pain 
 she had caused him. With a woman's divine 
 inconsistency she longed to call him back to her, to 
 comfort him and make him feel happy again ; and 
 her eyes grew very tender as she remembered his 
 almost boyish apology ; his voice was still in her ears : 
 '' Dash it ! I couldn't help it ! " 
 
 It was quite true, he could not help it, and therein 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE i6i 
 
 lay the delight of what he had done ; that he, so 
 self-contained, so apparently indifferent, should 
 have lost control of himself and thrown his cherished 
 conventions to the winds was a delicious thing to 
 have happened, and she smiled at the thought of it. 
 But marrying him was another story altogether. 
 She rose with an impatient sigh and stood for a 
 moment peering into the mirror which hung over 
 the mantelpiece. Long and earnestly she looked at 
 herself, meeting her own eyes and talking to herself 
 there as she so often did. 
 
 " Darling thing," she said, " that was a very 
 close shave ! If he had been a little more persuasive 
 instead of shutting up like an oyster directly you 
 said no, if he had held on just a little longer and been 
 really nice to you, you might easily have given in. 
 And you know perfectly well that you must not 
 give in. You do not like being married. It is 
 much nicer to be quite free so that you can be as silly 
 as you like and nobody mind about it. What a 
 blessing that he was so touchy ! " 
 
 The buzzing of the front door bell put a sudden 
 end to her soliloquy, and she fled through the 
 folding doors and into her own room before Daisy 
 had time to answer it. A sort of recklessness 
 seized her, a wild exhilaration that went to her head 
 like wine. She was still free ! Her heart sang with 
 the joy of it, drowning the little plaintive note that 
 craved something better than freedom. She picked 
 up the soft grey satin frock that was lying on the 
 bed, and, tossing it aside, went to her wardrobe and 
 took from a peg her new pink chiffon. It was a 
 festive little frock and suited her mood exactly, but 
 
i62 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 it was not, and she knew it, quite the right frock for 
 the occasion. 
 
 It seemed to strike a note of frivolity of which 
 Major Cartwright might conceivably take advan- 
 tage ; and it certainly lent an air of gaiety to the 
 evening's entertainment which had been very far 
 from her intention when she accepted his invitation. 
 But some Uttle devil within her rejoiced as she 
 fastened it up, and further beguiled her into putting 
 a tiny dab of rouge under her eyes, which although 
 in itself a harmless substance, is not conducive to 
 discreet behaviour. 
 
 At length she was ready, and drawing on a pair 
 of long gloves she swept impulsively into the draw- 
 ing-room, the excitement of the last hour adding a 
 lustre to her hazel eyes which was infinitely becom- 
 ing, and by no means lost on her waiting cavalier. 
 
 As he helped her into her fur coat his glance 
 travelled approvingly over her dainty form, from 
 her shining head to her satin slippers ; and he secretly 
 congratulated himself on the stroke of good luck 
 which had thrown them together. It promised to 
 be a most entertaining evening. He determined 
 that it should not be his fault if it were not. 
 
 Down in the lift they went, and out into the 
 darkened streets, where a taxi was already standing 
 at the curb. A few moments later they were 
 speeding softly through the night, exchanging 
 conventionalities to hide from each other their sense 
 of adventure. 
 
 Inside the Piccadilly all was light and gaiety. 
 The band was playing, and above its sensuous 
 rhythm the first violinist was soulfully wailing for 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 163 
 
 " Just a little love — a little kiss ! " Under the 
 amber shaded lamps the silver plate gleamed with a 
 meretricious glory of its own, and the waiters, 
 trying to look as EngHsh as possible, hovered 
 attentively over their patrons. 
 
 The room was nearly full, with a large sprinkling 
 of men in khaki, obviously making the most of their 
 opportunities. Some were lean, with eager faces, 
 and a keen, hard look which spoke plainly of the 
 trenches ; and some were fat, with red cheeks and 
 boyish, untroubled eyes that had never known the 
 fear of flying shells ; but their womenfolk, whether 
 old or young, fat or thin, all wore the courageous, 
 terror-haunted expression of those thrilling days, 
 and smiled with a persistent vivacity which deceived 
 no one. 
 
 Major Cartwright, leaving nothing to chance, had 
 engaged a corner table which overlooked the whole 
 room ; a huge bottle of champagne reposed in an 
 ice pail, and a profusion of flowers completely 
 eclipsed every other scheme of decoration within 
 sight. 
 
 " You must pardon me if I don't do the correct 
 thing," he remarked, shaking out his napkin with a 
 cheerful flourish. " It isn't often a lady friend does 
 me proud like this ! " 
 
 Sybil smiled encouragingly ; she liked immensely 
 to be called a lady friend. 
 
 " Your manners are beautiful," she said. " You 
 will be an ornament to Park Lane one of these days 
 when you settle down there, like a good South 
 African. Tell me when you are ready, and I will find 
 you a nice wife." 
 
i64 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 " Thank you," said Cartwright, '* but I've had one 
 wife ; I don't want another." 
 
 " Oh, I do beg your pardon ! " cried Sybil, fearing 
 she was on delicate ground. " I had somehow an 
 idea that you were a bachelor." 
 
 " No," he said carelessly. " I married a barmaid 
 when I was twenty-one and divorced her six months 
 later. Reg'lar bad 'un she was ; I was lucky to get 
 out of it so well." 
 
 Sybil, unaccustomed to the absolute candour of 
 South Africans on the subject of their matrimonial 
 affairs, could only stare at him in amazement. 
 
 " Oh dear," she said faintly, " what a terrible 
 experience for a boy of twenty-one ! " 
 
 " Yes," he admitted easily, " cost me six hundred 
 pounds, and the other feller got his jaw broken. I 
 spoilt his beauty for him, the blighter ! " 
 
 Conversation on these lines being somewhat 
 difficult to maintain, Mrs. Burmester tactfully led 
 it into a safer channel, and Major Cartwright was 
 soon launched on a lengthy recital of his own history 
 and adventures. And a fascinating story he made 
 of it. He told her of long treks in the moonlight, 
 and she heard the sound of creaking waggons over 
 the veld, and the grunting of oxen as they strained 
 at their loads ; and of hot, airless days when he had 
 worked in the blazing sun, prospecting for gold with 
 a handful of niggers, and living on what he had time 
 to shoot. 
 
 He spoke of his finds and his failures, of dizzy 
 deeds of daring in native wars, and the struggle for 
 existence in a land of more promise than fulfilment ; 
 but whether it was a tale of how he had outwitted 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 165 
 
 Ikey Moses over a deal and netted a clear ten 
 thousand pounds, or of the time when, down to his 
 last tickey, he had sought shelter in a Boer farm- 
 house, there was always the same cheery note of 
 optimism, the same sporting independence which is 
 the keynote of his country. 
 
 His reminiscences seemed to amuse him almost as 
 much as they entertained her, and his hearty laugh 
 several times caused all heads to turn in their 
 direction. He was enjoying himself immensely, 
 and his strange blue eyes sparkled with honest 
 pleasure. 
 
 As his spirits rose, he lost the touch of bravado 
 with which he had tried to hide his nervousness, and 
 treated her with the bantering familiarity of an old 
 friend, filling up her glass after every sip she took 
 from it, and otherwise making himself as agreeable 
 as he knew how. 
 
 And Sybil, because her heart was hurting her a 
 tiny bit under her pink chiffon, thoroughly entered 
 into the spirit of the evening. She laughed at his 
 naive confessions, fenced with his clumsy com- 
 pliments, and when, as the dinner proceeded, his 
 manner became a little too intimate, she gazed 
 pensively at him over his elaborate table decorations 
 until he dropped his eyes with a shamefaced laugh. 
 It was heady work for a man who had never learned 
 the meaning of self-control, whose knowledge of 
 women was gained chiefly from Johannesburg 
 barmaids, and it need surprise nobody if Major 
 Cartwright thought he was getting on very nicely 
 indeed. 
 
 So pleased was he with the progress he was making, 
 
i66 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 that, before dinner was half-way through, he had 
 decided to do Mrs. Burmester a really good turn. 
 He would put her in on the ground floor of his new 
 syndicate, this being, as everybody knows, a favour 
 of a very high order indeed amongst mining men. 
 Once in on the ground floor, you are inside a magic 
 circle. You pay considerably less for your shares 
 than anyone on the out, or wrong side, and you are 
 further vouchsafed a certain prescience which enables 
 you to sell the said shares before the speculating 
 public reaHses that they are going to fall in price. 
 No greater compliment could Major Cartwright have 
 paid his lady friend than to make her such an offer. 
 Whether she would take advantage of it remained 
 to be seen. 
 
 He broke it to her gently, not all at once would he 
 dazzle her eyes with the prospect of the wealth which 
 should be hers. He told her of a property in the 
 Transvaal where gold lay hidden under the earth — 
 but not so far hidden that it had not already been 
 discovered by a certain prospector. Two years had 
 he spent in proving the existence of a large and 
 payable reef, and now, having taken out all that 
 could be reached without the assistance of expensive 
 machinery, he was at the end of his resources. 
 Three thousand pounds would buy him out, and, to 
 raise this sum, a small syndicate had been formed 
 by a few men who knew a good thing when they saw 
 it. The really attractive part of the programme was 
 the fact that the property adjoined that of a large 
 and influential company, who would sooner or later 
 be obliged to secure it in order to carry on their own 
 operations. It was therefore obvious that anyone 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 167 
 
 having the foresight and the ready money to acquire 
 it at the present price stood a very good chance of 
 seUing it for a very much larger amount. 
 
 " Altogether," said Major Cartwright, " I shall 
 want five thousand pounds, as there will be certain 
 other expenses, such as paying hcences, transfers, 
 etc. Several friends of mine have gone five hundred 
 each, and the rest I've taken up myself, but if 
 you'd like to come in for five hundred, you may ; 
 it isn't a chance I'd offer everybody, I can tell 
 you." 
 
 " How extremely kind of you ! " said Sybil. 
 " But I'm much too poor to spend all that money, 
 and, as a matter of fact, my executors do everything, 
 I know nothing at all about business." 
 
 " Then it's time you did," said Cartwright 
 cheerfully. " What sort of interest are you getting 
 on your money ? I daresay four or five per cent, 
 at the most, and I'm offering you a chance to double 
 your capital in a few months, perhaps less. At the 
 same time, I don't want to press you : if you don't 
 want it, say so. The option is up on Saturday and I 
 shall cable out the money before then to close the 
 deal. So think it over and 'phone me up to-morrow 
 if you want to come in." 
 
 Sybil thought it over there and then. Her mind 
 flew to the five thousand pounds now reposing in her 
 bank, untouched because it had seemed not quite 
 honest to spend it without knowing more of the 
 conditions under which it had been given her. For 
 three days it had lain there awaiting developments. 
 But there was always the chance that there might 
 be no developments, that it might stay there for 
 
i68 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 years and years without doing anyone any good at 
 all — which was absurd. 
 
 " You see," said Cartwright, breaking in on her 
 reflections, " the thing is such an absolute cert, that 
 there will probably be no need for you ever to pay 
 over the whole amount. I've only got to take it to 
 Glucksteins and they'll simply swallow it. The only 
 question which may delay us a bit is, how much 
 they are prepared to pay for it. You let me allot 
 you the shares, and pay a deposit of, say, a hundred 
 pounds, and the rest can stand over till next month 
 if you like — it's quite possible that you won't have 
 to pay any more at all. And I'll tell you what I'll 
 do," he added, his enthusiasm visibly rising. " If 
 you want to sell before the deal is through, I'll take 
 them over myself, and pay you back your deposit. 
 Do that any time you like." 
 
 It was an attractive programme, and Mrs. 
 Burmester was charmed, as well she might be, at 
 the prospect of making money so easily. This, then, 
 was the way in which ordinary mortals became 
 millionaires ! How easy it sounded ! So safe too ; 
 for if, by any chance, it became necessary, or 
 advisable, to return Colonel Massingham's legacy to 
 his people, all she had to do was to demand her 
 deposit back from Major Cartwright and pay it into 
 her account again. Moreover, there was the glorious 
 possibility of an enormous profit on the transaction, 
 and this, whatever the capital might prove to be, 
 was undoubtedly her very own. 
 
 If the thought occurred to her that she was 
 gambling with money which perhaps belonged to 
 some one else, she swept it aside with the reflection 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 169 
 
 that even if the worst came to the worst and she lost 
 it, she had still plenty of her own to meet any 
 demands. It would simply mean that Messrs. 
 Martin, Son and Blenkinsop would be obliged, 
 whether they liked it or not, to release some of her 
 capital. There seemed to be no flaw in her reason- 
 ing, and, after considering the question for a few 
 moments, she looked up with a bright smile and 
 decided to risk it. She would come in on the ground 
 floor. 
 
 " Good," said Major Cartwright. " You won't 
 regret it. Send me the cheque along to-morrow." 
 
 What with one thing and another, the time 
 passed so quickly that they could hardly believe 
 it was nearly half-past nine when the coffee and 
 liqueurs had been disposed of. Mrs. Burmester was 
 horrified. 
 
 " We must fly," she said, " the thing is supposed 
 to be over by half-past ten. How extravagant of us 
 to waste your money like this ! We have already 
 missed half of it." 
 
 And in spite of his protestations that it would be 
 much nicer to go into the Palm Court and have a 
 yarn, she carried him off to the charity performance. 
 
 It was delightful to sit in the darkened theatre and 
 to feel that nothing more was expected of one, and 
 Sybil settled herself in her seat with a sigh of relief. 
 The stage receded so far into the distance that it did 
 not seem to matter at all, and she gave herself up to 
 her own thoughts. The money which old Evans 
 had given her had, until that evening, hardly entered 
 into her calculations ; it seemed too incredible, it 
 somehow had an air of unreaUty, coming as it did 
 
170 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 from one who in his Hfetime had been Httle more than 
 an acquaintance. Although she could never remem- 
 ber the time when she had not known Colonel 
 Massingham, it had been only as a friend of her 
 family. She recalled his occasional visits to her 
 mother, and the little presents he had sometimes 
 given her as a child ; and then she had lost sight of 
 him for some years. 
 
 It was just after her instalment in her new fiat 
 that she had come across him again ; he had heard 
 of her arrival home from India, through a mutual 
 friend, and had called one afternoon at tea time. 
 A dear, kind old thing she had thought him. After 
 that he had become a fairly frequent visitor, 
 especially since the outbreak of the war, when his 
 zeal took him almost every day up to the War 
 Office until he secured the billet which sent him out 
 to the Front. It had grown to be a recognised thing 
 for him to drop in for a cup of tea and a chat before 
 going home, and in this way they had lately become 
 quite good friends. But, on looking back over the 
 events of the past few months, she could remember 
 nothing which could by any possibility account for 
 his mysterious legacy ; it was unbelievable that he 
 had meant it for her, and she had determined not to 
 use any of it until some further light should be 
 thrown on the subject. 
 
 However, whatever might be the result of in- 
 vestigation, the money, for the time being, was in 
 the bank under her own name. As far as it was 
 possible to say at present, it belonged to her, and 
 the opportunity which had suddenly presented 
 itself, by which she could raise a sum which would 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 171 
 
 pay off her debts if it did no more, was a temptation 
 too great to be resisted. So busy was she with her 
 schemes, so full of plans for the future, that she was 
 quite sorry when the performance was over, and the 
 lights blazed up again on the pale faces of the 
 audience. 
 
 " Come and have some supper ? " suggested 
 Major Cart Wright, recalling her to the reahties of 
 existence. 
 
 " Oh no, indeed," she laughed. " I have just 
 finished dinner." 
 
 " Just a httle peck of something ? " he urged 
 persuasively. 
 
 But she was adamant. Not a bite nor a sup. 
 She had a thousand letters to write, and a busy day 
 on the morrow. Home she would go, in a taxi, if 
 he would be kind enough to call one. 
 
 The crowd surged slowly out into the street, a 
 taxi was hailed, and she gathered up her wraps with 
 both hands and got inside. 
 
 *' I think I shall come and see you safely home," 
 suggested Major Cartwright tentatively. 
 
 Sybil smiled to herself in the darkness ; she was 
 thinking of Monty's prophecy and wondering 
 whether there were really any risk. It was a fatal 
 moment of hesitation, for before she could make up 
 her mind Major Cartwright had made up his : he 
 cHmbed in beside her and shut the door. 
 
 " Great improvement on the old cabs we had last 
 time I was at home," he began conversationally. 
 
 " Lovely, aren't they ? " said she. " But I used 
 to like those funny jolting old hansoms." 
 
 After this exchange of opinion a silence fell 
 
172 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 between them ; they were both busy with their own 
 thoughts, and, as is so often the case when two 
 people of receptive mind are alone together, each 
 was considering the same subject. But not from 
 the same standpoint. Sybil — it was entirely Monty's 
 fault — was wondering whether he would dare to do 
 it, and he was speculating as to what would happen 
 if he did. Like all primitive men Major Cartwright 
 was extremely shy of his emotions, perhaps because 
 he alone knew the strength and violence of them 
 once they were roused. 
 
 He looked sideways at her. Very alluring she 
 was, very demure and perfectly self-possessed — 
 utterly unconscious, no doubt, of his sinister design. 
 And yet there had certainly been, once or twice 
 during dinner, a glint of mischief in her eye, which 
 seemed to promise that, approached in the right 
 spirit, she would not be so entirely inaccessible as 
 she outwardly appeared. It was worth trying ; if 
 the worst came to the worst, she would forgive him, 
 as dozens of other women had forgiven him before. 
 But how to begin ? How to lead up to the moment 
 when it would not seem too presumptuous ? The 
 taxi was whizzing along at a most unnecessary pace ; 
 time was flying ; already at least three of the 
 precious ten minutes must have been wasted. With 
 a determined effort he stretched out a venturesome 
 hand and laid it on her knee. 
 
 " This is a fine coat of yours," he began, in a voice 
 which he hoped did not sound so strange to her as it 
 did to him. 
 
 " Yes, isn't it ? " she said pleasantly. " So 
 warm and comfy 1 " 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 173 
 
 She seemed unconscious of his huge, trembling 
 paw, or perhaps — happy thought ! — she Hked it 
 there. The idea emboldened him. " It — it's not 
 so nice as what's inside it," he stammered, with a 
 Httle pressure. 
 
 Sybil was off at a tangent. 
 
 " I'm so glad you like my pink frock," she said in 
 haste. " It's my favourite frock, but with so many 
 people in mourning I don't often wear it nowadays. 
 I always feel so cheerful in it ; colour affects one 
 tremendously, don't you think ? " 
 
 " Snookered ! " remarked Major Cartwright to 
 himself with a grim smile. But he was not a man to 
 give in ; moreover the sweet proximity of her was 
 making the matter a more urgent one than it had 
 been. He felt that kiss her he must ; his breath 
 came a little faster and he leaned towards her. 
 They were at Hyde Park Corner now, and a police- 
 man's hand kept them stationary for a moment or 
 two under the light of a street lamp. He could see 
 her profile, the burnished sheen of her hair, and the 
 dimple that played near her mouth. She was 
 irresistible ! 
 
 " You are very beautiful," he said in a low tone. 
 " I wish it wasn't nearly time to say good-bye." 
 
 " I shall be just as beautiful next time you see 
 me," laughed Sybil, who, it must be admitted, was 
 enjoying herself immensely. 
 
 With a jerk the taxi shot forward, and turning 
 sharply to the left sped along by St. James's Park 
 towards Victoria. In less than five minutes it 
 would be too late, and Major Cartwright ralHed all 
 his forces for a final onslaught. 
 
 M 
 
174 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 ** This has been such a happy evening," he said 
 earnestly. " It just wants one thing to make it the 
 most perfect evening of my hfe." He paused, then 
 with a desperate spurt he reached his goal. " Let 
 me kiss you," he whispered, his hands hovering over 
 her, ready and waiting. 
 
 Sybil recoiled with horror at the suggestion. 
 Such a preposterous proposal had surely never before 
 been made ! 
 
 " I should think not I " she cried indignantly. 
 
 " Yes, yes," he urged distractedly, " just one, 
 please ! please I " 
 
 He was very near now, eagerly awaiting her 
 permission. 
 
 But we all know what happens to the man who 
 waits for permission. There is no hope for him. 
 Sybil's voice was icy : her words fell cold and sweet 
 on his throbbing senses. 
 
 " You will offend me very much if you talk like 
 that," she said; " and will you kindly move a little 
 further away ? you are sitting on my coat." 
 
 As though in league with her, the taxi began to 
 slow down before her door, and the pregnant moment 
 was over. There was nothing else for it : he begged 
 her pardon, he hoped she was not angry with 
 him. 
 
 " Not in the least ! " said Mrs. Burmester cheer- 
 fully, as she descended to the pavement, poised for a 
 moment, and threw him a genial good night over 
 her shoulder. 
 
 Alone in the taxi he pulled out a deep-dyed 
 calabash pipe and filled it from an old snake-skin 
 pouch ; abstractedly he struck a match on his 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 175 
 
 trouser leg, and as the noxious fumes of Boer 
 tobacco poisoned the air he sighed bitterly to 
 himself. 
 
 " Slipped a cog somewhere/' he said. " They're 
 all alike, curse 'em ! " 
 
176 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THERE are times in the lives of most of us 
 when nothing at all seems to happen. It 
 is as though Fate, busy with the affairs 
 of other people, had left us to our own devices, to lie 
 fallow as it were, so that the seeds of future events 
 may germinate, watered by the tears of our boredom. 
 Our eager spirits would have us be up and doing, but 
 there is nothing to do : we must perforce accept the 
 wisdom of the High Gods, and wait with what 
 patience we may until our turn comes round again. 
 Such of us as are possessed of prudence and 
 common sense doubtless seize this period of in- 
 activity as a heaven-sent opportunity in which to 
 commune with our own souls, recuperate our 
 nervous system and otherwise prepare ourselves for 
 future demands of Fate : we go to bed early, answer 
 the letters of elderly relations, pay duty calls and 
 save up our money against the time when we shall 
 have more need of it. But whatever the advantages 
 of the occasion may be to the persons concerned, 
 there are none for the faithful historian of their 
 doings. Anxious as he may be to get ahead with 
 their story, it is impossible to hurry them ; and, 
 unless he employ himself with the consideration of 
 their feelings in a state of inertia, there is nothing for 
 it but to pass over the interlude in silence. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 177 
 
 The latter course we hold to be the best, the least 
 fatiguing for everybody concerned. It shall then 
 merely be recorded that Monty Drake went on 
 drilling his recruits, cursing his luck at not being 
 more gloriously employed, and licking them into 
 shape with a zeal which earned for him a compliment 
 from his colonel and the active dislike of the recruits 
 themselves. 
 
 Sybil Burmester flitted through her days much as 
 usual on her usual round of philanthropic frivolity. 
 Her mind was much occupied with Monty, and she 
 often yearned for him, not as a husband, but in that 
 much more attractive role of the lover who is 
 denied, yet hovers hopefully around picking up 
 what crumbs of comfort he may find. It was a role, 
 however, which had no charm for Captain Drake, 
 and he said as much over the telephone when she 
 rang up to ask him if he were ever coming to see 
 her again. He was indeed rather disappointingly 
 matter-of-fact ; too busy to accept her invitation at 
 the moment, but quite willing to promise a chance 
 visit the next time he found himself in her neighbour- 
 hood. His manner had indicated that it would be 
 fooHsh to break a pleasant friendship over so trifling 
 an affair ; and she had agreed, with a smile not 
 transmitted over the wires, that it would indeed be 
 a pity, the more so as any open rupture would 
 undoubtedly arouse the curiosity of their friends. 
 She knew as well as he did the value of those blessed 
 conventions by which we may hide our feelings from 
 the prying eyes of society. 
 
 Major Cartwright hovered industriously between 
 his financial undertakings and his martial ambitions. 
 
178 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 keeping an attentive eye on his lady friend, but not 
 getting very much ahead, and filhng in his spare 
 hours with vain attempts to find out what Monsieur 
 Grimaux was up to. Bernard was busy learning 
 to be a soldier, although convinced in his own mind 
 that, after three months* training, he had little more 
 to learn ; and Lovie, a trifle pensive and somewhat 
 paler than her wont, was dividing her energies 
 between good works and a rather plaintive effort to 
 kill time. 
 
 But Mrs. Massingham had been really busy. In 
 addition to her usual interests, social and otherwise, 
 she had a scheme afoot which took up all her spare 
 moments. There were boxes of old papers which it 
 appeared must be destroyed — useless lumber now 
 that her husband was no longer there to value them 
 — and she had spent busy hours in the library wading 
 through the bundles of letters and documents that 
 it had been his harmless hobby to preserve. Evans 
 had been pressed into the service ; his part was to 
 fetch the boxes down from the attic, and burn the 
 rubbish when it had been cast into the grate as such ; 
 and he had entered into his work with an enthusiasm 
 which he had seldom been known to exhibit before. 
 So attentive was he that he scarcely ever left his 
 mistress alone in the room for a minute. He hovered 
 at her elbow ; and, if he kept a watchful eye on the 
 papers she so laboriously read through, he was at 
 any rate careful not to let her suspect it. Never 
 had she known him behave with such consideration. 
 Their relations were more cordial than they had been 
 for years. 
 
 It was Wednesday morning before the last of the 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 179 
 
 attic boxes had been emptied ; and, as Evans carried 
 out the last tray-load to be burned in the kitchen 
 grate, Mrs. Massingham rose with a sigh of reUef. 
 So much, at any rate, was done. There remained 
 only the drawers in the writing-table, and a couple 
 of despatch cases, which might be left until another 
 occasion, as plans had been made for the rest of the 
 day which would keep her occupied until dinner- 
 time. 
 
 As she left the room, Lovie came downstairs, 
 dressed in the woollen jacket and cap, the stout 
 shoes and short skirt which all Blackheath girls wear 
 when they take the dog for a walk in the morning. 
 Very fresh and bright she looked as the sunbeams, 
 slanting through the staircase window, alighted on 
 her golden hair. Mrs. Massingham smiled affec- 
 tionately ; she was almost as fond of Lovie as if she 
 had been her own child. 
 
 *' That's right, dear," she said. " A walk will do 
 you good. You are feeUng better this morning, I 
 can see. It was undoubtedly that cold snap which 
 affected you ; I felt it myself. This changeable 
 weather is very trying for everybody." 
 
 " Yes, isn't it ? " said Lovie, seeking in the hall- 
 stand for her particular walking-stick. " I shall be 
 so glad when the summer comes. Is there anything 
 you want in the village ? " 
 
 " No, dear, I think not this morning," said her 
 aunt. " Don't be late for lunch ; I shall have to 
 catch the 2.30 train, and I don't like to hurry off 
 directly after a meal." 
 
 " This meeting sounds as though it ought to be 
 rather instructive," remarked Lovie, drawing on a 
 
i8o LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 pair of serviceable wash-leather gloves. " I wish I 
 could have gone with you." 
 
 " I wish also that it had been possible," replied 
 Mrs. Massingham, " but it is a subject that would 
 not interest you much. I cannot say I am par- 
 ticularly anxious to go myself, but as Mrs. Burmester 
 kindly sent me the ticket, and as I am president of 
 the society, I feel it to be a duty. No doubt I shall 
 gather some useful information which I am sure we 
 all sadly need; a more absurd muddle than this 
 Vigilance Society I have seldom known. Alice 
 Manson is very much to blame for the way she has 
 rushed us all into it. However, I have promised to 
 help and I shall do so. I thought, if I have time 
 after the meeting, I would call on Mrs. Burmester ; 
 it would only be polite, although she is a woman 
 whom I should never choose for a friend." 
 
 " Not quite our sort, is she ? " said Lovie in- 
 differently. " But she seemed rather nice, I 
 thought." 
 
 " Oh, I do not mean to be in the least uncharitable 
 about her ; in her own way she is no doubt an 
 excellent little woman," said Mrs. Massingham. 
 " But her way is not my way. I shall merely call 
 and leave a card. Very likely she will be out, at 
 any rate I shall not telephone as she suggested ; it is 
 only a formal visit and I do not intend it to be 
 anything else." 
 
 Half-past two found Aunt Margaret in the train 
 on her way up to town to attend the meeting of 
 Willing Women Workers which was to be held at 
 Westminster that afternoon. The subject under 
 discussion was the old and vital one of how to win 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE i8i 
 
 the confidence of young women, and, having done 
 so, how to use it to the best advantage. Certain 
 members were to give their views and experiences, 
 together with such hints as might be useful for the 
 guidance of those who knew less about it. But, as 
 we are not ourselves concerned in the good work, we 
 will not follow Mrs. Massingham into the dingy 
 schoolroom, nor harrow our feelings with the tales of 
 depravity related by the speakers of the W.W.W, 
 that afternoon. 
 
 Mrs. Burmester lives not very far away, and her 
 company is more after our own heart. We will go 
 and see what is happening at the Httle flat in Victoria 
 Street. 
 
 Sybil was seated at her writing-table, hastily 
 scribbhng a succession of notes in her large sprawHng 
 handwriting, hunting up addresses, turning over 
 various papers and books of reference, trying to work 
 off her accumulated correspondence in the short 
 hour which she had to herself. Very busy she was. 
 A ring at the bell brought a Httle frown to her brow, 
 and she rose and passed quickly and silently into 
 the hall to meet Daisy, who was hurrying to answer 
 the summons. 
 
 *' Unless it's anyone important I am not at home 
 till four o'clock," she said. " I really must finish 
 my letters." 
 
 Back to her table she went, but no more letters 
 were to be written that afternoon, for the door 
 opened, and a cheery-looking boy in khaki entered 
 the room. 
 
 " Here we are again," he remarked jauntily. 
 " What a bit of luck finding you in." 
 
i82 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 ** Cyril ! " she exclaimed, greeting him with a 
 pleased smile of welcome. " But I thought you 
 were somewhere in the South of France ! " 
 
 " Got back last night," said Mr. Barnes, shaking 
 her warmly by the hand. 
 
 " But how nice to see you ! " she cried. " And 
 how fit you're looking ! Are you all right again ? " 
 
 " Oh, rather, absolutely ; I'm off again in a day or 
 two. They can't get on without me, I was up at 
 the W.O. this morning, and they begged me to go 
 back with tears in their eyes." 
 
 Sybil laughed. 
 
 ** Well, I'm glad you're better," she said. " Sit 
 down and talk to me ; I want to ask you a thousand 
 questions. Did Kenneth come with you ? " 
 
 " No, Ken stayed behind," he said, throwing his 
 long limbs on the couch. " He is in a convalescent 
 home, having a great time. A duchess washes his 
 face every morning, and all the girls make a fuss 
 about him. He says he's doing nicely, thanks, and 
 doesn't propose to get better till the weather warms 
 up a bit." 
 
 " Sensible boy ! And what is Jimmy Bailey 
 doing ? He got hit, didn't he ? " 
 
 " Yes, I'm afraid rather badly, poor beggar ; but 
 I believe he's perfectly happy, writing a book about 
 bugs, fleas, and lice. It's going to be a classic ; we 
 mustn't miss it." 
 
 " It will be nice to have some information on the 
 subject," laughed Sybil. 
 
 " I can tell you anything you want to know," said 
 Mr. Barnes obligingly, " they're rather a hobby of 
 mine. Of course you know old Carlyon is over ? " 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 183 
 
 "No, I didn't," said Sybil, " what's he 
 doing ? " 
 
 " I saw him at the club last night. He's feeling 
 very tired — been over there for five months and 
 never had a look in yet. They keep him glued to his 
 bally gun ; he says he hasn't seen a German since 
 he had his hair cut just before war broke out. He's 
 going to chuck the artillery and take up flying. 
 Don't blame him either ; those are the chaps who get 
 all the fun." 
 
 " I think you've had your share," said Sybil. " I 
 hear great accounts of you." 
 
 '* I always make a point of doing any old thing 
 that comes along," said Mr. Barnes modestly, " and 
 I can tell you, you have to be ready to take a hand 
 at anything in this war. I often wonder what I 
 really am. One day we're mounted infantry, and 
 the next we're trekking over ploughed fields on foot, 
 or wallowing in the mud. We carry a perfect 
 arsenal about with us — everything from a revolver 
 to a corkscrew — you never know what the orders 
 will be from one day to another. Our spare hours 
 we fill in digging trenches. Nice life ! " 
 
 " Well, I suppose it will all be over before long," 
 suggested Mrs. Burmester hopefully. 
 
 " No hurry about that," said Mr. Barnes. ** We've 
 a good deal of our own to get back yet. However," 
 he added cheerfully, " we're learning 'em ! " 
 
 " And is it true about those poor things who came 
 back with the sinews of their wrists cut ? " asked 
 Mrs. Burmester curiously. She was always on the 
 look-out for first-hand information. 
 
 " Rather ! ' replied Mr. Barnes with enthusiasm. 
 
i84 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 " But that's nothing to what we do to their prisoners 
 when we catch them." 
 
 " Oh, but surely — it's impossible ! " cried Sybil 
 aghast. 
 
 "You won't give it away, will you ? " he went on 
 confidentially, " but as a matter of fact we make a 
 point of skinning 'em alive and using the hide to sole 
 our boots ; it's better than pigskin." 
 
 " Oh, don't be silly ! " laughed Sybil. She 
 listened for a moment. " I believe this is Elsie 
 Oliver," she said, " she 'phoned up that she would be 
 round this afternoon." 
 
 " May I come in ? " called out a bright Httle voice, 
 and without waiting for an answer Mrs. Oliver 
 entered the room, her hat on crooked, furs flying as 
 usual. " Hullo ! " she exclaimed on the threshold. 
 " You back ! Well, how's the dog fight going ? " 
 
 Cyril Barnes waved a lean brown hand to her. 
 
 " Come and sit on the sofa beside me," he said. 
 " Mrs. Burmester is not being kind to me, she says 
 I'm silly." 
 
 " So you are," laughed Mrs. Oliver. " But I shall 
 come and sit beside you because I want to ask you 
 about my Tom. Have you seen anything of him ? " 
 
 " Last time I saw Tom," repHed Mr. Barnes 
 judicially, " he was seated on an old box, eating cold 
 pork out of a tin. It was five o'clock in the morning, 
 and he had been up all night, and looked as fresh as 
 paint." 
 
 " Fancy, my Tom ! " cried Mrs. Oliver in ecstasy. 
 " Cold pork ! poor pet, and so faddy as he always is 
 about food. Oh, it will do him a world of good, the 
 darling ! " 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 185 
 
 " The A.S.C. chaps are getting very top-lofty," 
 went on Mr. Barnes. " From being the despised 
 and rejected of men, they have become the top brick 
 of the chimney, if you know what I mean." 
 
 " Quite," said Mrs. Tom. " Did you hear about 
 the time they took a hundred and fifty German 
 prisoners ? " 
 
 " How did they do that ? " asked Mr. Barnes, with 
 a superior smile. " I suppose they 'ticed 'em in with 
 the smell of fried sausages." 
 
 *' No. Don't be so clever and funny," said Mrs. 
 Oliver disapprovingly. " It was one morning early. 
 They were returning from the trenches to their base, 
 and they came across a lot of men running away. 
 Tom rounded them up and asked them where they 
 were going to. They said they didn't know ; but 
 all their officers had been killed, and the Germans 
 were coming on behind them. So Tom called up his 
 own men and took them all into a little wood by the 
 roadside. By and by the Germans came along and 
 got an awful fright ; and, thinking they were 
 probably outnumbered, they all surrendered. But 
 Tom says they had a nice little scrap first." 
 
 " Was that the time one of the A.S.C. bashed a 
 German's head in with a frying-pan ? " asked Mr. 
 Barnes eagerly. " I heard the story, but I didn't 
 believe it." 
 
 *' Yes, wasn't it splendid ? Tom saw him do it, 
 he was so pleased. I asked him to save me the 
 frying-pan, but he said it was quite a good one still 
 and they couldn't spare it." 
 
 Gradually the Httle room began to fill, and by half- 
 past four a buzz of conversation filled the air, and the 
 
i86 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 clatter of tea-cups mingled with the chatter of 
 women's voices and the gruffer tones of a few men 
 who had dropped in. Most of those present had 
 relations or best friends at the Front, from whom, 
 in spite of the censor, they received illuminating 
 information as to the movements of the troops, 
 prospective engagements, promotions, and various 
 other items which might, but more probably would 
 not, appear in the press at a later date. They 
 smiled over the reasons of ill-health which had 
 necessitated the retirement of Colonel Brown ; and 
 speculated as to the remarks which Mrs. Brown 
 would have to make on the subject. They knew 
 who had blundered when the Blankshires had been 
 so badly cut up at Nouvaine ; and how Bobby 
 Henderson had made a bomb out of a jam tin with 
 which to blow up the enemy, but made it so badly 
 that it had blown up poor Bobby himself. They 
 spoke of the splendid heroism of Dennis Stapleton 
 who fired a mine with his own revolver because the 
 fuse had failed and a party of pursuing Uhlans were 
 about to cross the bridge ; and of that unhappy 
 man, his nerve strained to breaking point, who had 
 turned and fled rather than face a charge, and who 
 was afterwards found ten miles away in a ditch, shot 
 by his own hand. 
 
 London was full of such stories of daring and 
 despair in those days ; stories, too, of the suffering 
 of women left behind, whose sleepless anxiety had 
 driven them into lunatic asylums, of wives battling 
 with their poverty until their starved faces gave 
 away their secret in spite of themselves. 
 
 And there were others less harrowing, but equally 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 187 
 
 human. There was poor Minnie who had angled so 
 long and so patiently for Captain Dickinson, and 
 who had just been on the point of landing him, 
 when the war whisked him out of her clutches. 
 There was also poor Evelyn, who ought to have 
 known better than to spend her last farthing on a 
 trousseau in the hope that her Major and she would 
 be married on his next leave from the trenches. 
 There she was, poor thing, with a lot of useless, light 
 frocks, and not even a pension. Anybody with 
 more sense than Evelyn would have made sure of him 
 before he went away. In any case it was silly to buy 
 coloured clothes at a time when no one knew who 
 might be the next to be plunged into mourning. 
 
 About five o'clock Monty Drake turned up, 
 showing no sign whatever of lacerated feelings, and 
 very relieved to find the room so full that it would 
 be impossible for him to get a word alone with his 
 hostess. He discovered for himself a seat beside 
 Elsie OHver, and Hstened with obvious entertainment 
 to a vivacious tirade against the tyranny of Lady 
 Mary, who, it appeared, had absurd and irritating 
 views about the parcels sent to the Front. 
 
 " She waddles up and down the room the whole 
 time," said Elsie, " singing a horrid Httle refrain : 
 ' Be careful with the string, my dears, and don't 
 forget to put the tracts in ! ' I hate putting tracts 
 in, it simply spoils the parcel ; and I think it's 
 nothing less than cruel to remind the poor things by 
 every post that they must prepare to meet their 
 Maker — not that they ever read them, I suppose," 
 she added gloomily. 
 
 As the afternoon wore on, the party became a 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 most hilarious one, and the atmosphere of the room 
 grew cloudy and sociable with the fumes of cigar- 
 ettes. The doors which led into the little dining- 
 room were thrown open, and those who preferred 
 whisky to tea were invited to help themselves from 
 the sideboard. It was in the days before the Royal 
 ban had descended on alcohol, and barley-water had 
 not yet become a fashionable and patriotic drink. 
 
 Cyril Barnes, in particular, was in great form. 
 
 In the midst of a shout of laughter which greeted 
 one of his wild stories the door opened, and a 
 dignified and unfamiliar figure was seen on the 
 threshold. 
 
 Daisy murmured a name, and Mrs. Burmester, 
 after one doubtful glance at her visitor, rose with 
 alacrity. 
 
 " How very nice of you to come," she exclaimed, 
 " this is really kind ! " 
 
 Mrs. Massingham, who liked to begin at the 
 beginning, said " How do you do," and established 
 herself in a seat which had been pohtely vacated by 
 Monty Drake. 
 
 " You will have some tea? " inquired Mrs. Bur- 
 mester hospitably. 
 
 " Thank you, I have had tea," replied Aunt 
 Margaret. 
 
 She had come prepared to be quite friendly, but 
 could not resist a disapproving glance at the cigarette 
 which Sybil held unconsciously in her hand. 
 
 " I hope you don't dislike smoke ? " asked Elsie, 
 becoming suddenly aware of unconventionality. 
 " We are all so accustomed to it that we scarcely 
 notice it." 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 189 
 
 Mrs. Massingham graciously inclined her head — 
 her frigid smile seemed to indicate that she wished to 
 hurt nobody's feelings by expressing her own 
 opinion — and went on to inquire about certain good 
 works which promised to form a safer subject of 
 discussion between them. 
 
 Her entrance had a most sobering effect on the 
 party. Whatever confidences might be exchanged 
 between friends, the appearance of an outsider was 
 the signal for discretion. They all dropped their 
 voices to a more polite intonation and began to talk 
 about the things that did not matter. Sybil, nobly 
 doing her best, adopted a serious and worldly-wise 
 little air and asked about the progress of the 
 Vigilance Society. She learned with regret but not 
 with surprise that it was not developing at all well, 
 and volunteered further assistance — if she could 
 find the time. 
 
 " Thank you," said Mrs. Massingham, " but I am 
 sure you are fully engaged ; I hear from many 
 people of the wonderful things you are doing. You 
 must be careful not to overwork yourself." 
 
 The insinuation was too obvious to pass un- 
 noticed, and Sybil laughed good-temperedly. 
 
 " We are not all quite so frivolous as we appear," 
 she said, including her friends in her apology. 
 " Some of us are really working very hard. Aren't 
 we, Muriel ? " she added to Mrs. Bertie Warne, who 
 was watching her efforts with some amusement 
 from a secluded corner. 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! " replied Muriel, responding at 
 once to the appeal for help. " Most of us are 
 suffering from knitting neuritis. Thank goodness the 
 
 N 
 
190 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 weather is getting warmer and they won't want any 
 more woolly things. How they kept warm before we 
 began to clothe them, I don't know." 
 
 Mrs. Massingham did not know either, but 
 supposed that unless there had been need of such 
 articles there would not have been such a universal 
 demand for them. Elsie chimed in with the story 
 of a man who had such a varied assortment of knitted 
 belts sent him that although he was able to array 
 himself in knee-caps, chest protectors and a sleeping 
 hood, there was not one of them which would go 
 round the part for which it was intended. But 
 nobody was at all amused, certainly not the august 
 stranger, who observed that it would have been more 
 sensible if he had passed them on to some one whom 
 they would have fitted better. 
 
 Other subjects were introduced with equally 
 disappointing results, and it soon became obvious 
 that, in spite of heroic efforts, the party was doomed. 
 Mrs. Massingham had the not unusual capacity for 
 casting a bhght upon anything of which she did not 
 approve ; and, as the blighters have invariably more 
 staying power than the bhghted, it was not long 
 before people began to drift out of the room. 
 Sybil's old friends, however, stood their ground. 
 Mr. Barnes relapsed into thoughtful silence in his 
 corner of the sofa, and the others, ably assisted by 
 Monty Drake, did their best with the poUtical 
 situation, the need for conscription, and the delin- 
 quencies of the press censor. 
 
 At last the prescribed quarter of an hour was up, 
 and Mrs. Massingham rose to take her departure, 
 bestowing a frigid bow on the assembled company 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 191 
 
 which seemed to indicate that, rid of her restraining 
 influence, the orgy might now proceed as before. 
 
 When the door had closed behind her there was a 
 general sigh of reUef . Fresh cigarettes were lighted, 
 and Sybil picked up the poker and began to rouse 
 the fire which had fallen into the universal lethargy. 
 It was left for Mr. Barnes to voice the general 
 feeling. 
 
 He was fanning himself ostentatiously with a 
 newspaper. 
 
 " What have I done to make her so cross with 
 me ? " he asked plaintively. " Did anybody see the 
 cutting glance of disdain she treated me to as she 
 went out ? " 
 
 " Funny old dear," said Elsie. " I don't think 
 she quite approved of any of us. Who is she, 
 Sybil ? " 
 
 " She's Monty's Aunt Margaret," laughed Sybil, 
 " he will tell you all about her." 
 
 Captain Drake appeared to be engrossed in his 
 own thoughts, but bestirred himself to defend his 
 absent relative. She was, it appeared, a good, 
 worthy woman, but somewhat old-fashioned ; in- 
 tolerant, he said, of the lax manners of the age, and 
 particularly of ladies who smoked. 
 
 " I've got some relations like that," said Mr. 
 Barnes, " but they are all kept in museums ; people 
 pay sixpence to go and see 'em on Bank Holidays. 
 Some of 'em are used for coco-nut shies — begging 
 your pardon, Drake." 
 
 Captain Drake was in no mood for the chaff of 
 impertinent subalterns. He transfixed Mr. Barnes 
 with his glassy eye, and remarked coldly that Mrs. 
 
192 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 Massingham was a woman for whom he had great 
 respect, an excellent soul. 
 
 An idea seemed to strike Mr. Barnes and he 
 turned quickly to Mrs. Burmester. 
 
 " Did you say her name was Massingham ? Is 
 she by any chance a relation of my dear old Colonel 
 who was killed a few weeks ago ? " he asked. 
 
 " Of course, I had forgotten that," said Sybil. 
 " I ought to have introduced you. She was his 
 wife." 
 
 " His wife ! " exclaimed Mr. Barnes, looking 
 almost alarmed. " Are you quite sure of that ? " 
 
 Everybody smiled. Irregularity of that sort in 
 connection with Mrs. Massingham was distinctly 
 comic. 
 
 " My dear Cyril," said Mrs. Burmester reprovingly, 
 " don't take away the poor woman's character like 
 that. Of course she was his wife." 
 
 Cyril sat up very straight ; he looked quite serious. 
 
 " I thought his wife's name was Grace," he 
 remarked thoughtfully. 
 
 " No," said Sybil, " her name is Margaret ; but 
 does it matter very much ? " 
 
 Monty Drake had suddenly pricked up his ears ; 
 he was all attention, much interested in the turn 
 which the conversation had taken. 
 
 " What made you think her name was Grace ? " 
 he asked casually. 
 
 Cyril Barnes stared at him : a horrid suspicion 
 was becoming a horrider certainty. Then he sank 
 back helplessly into the sofa cushions. 
 
 " My hat ! " he groaned. " Great Scott, I've put 
 my foot in it ! " 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 193 
 
 All eyes were turned upon him and he looked 
 from one to the other in genuine distress. 
 
 " Not again ? " laughed Elsie. " Poor Cyril ! 
 what have you done now ? " 
 
 " Done ? " said Cyril desperately, ''I've been the 
 most appalling fool. I always knew I was a fool, 
 but I never thought — anyhow, it's not my fault, 
 anybody would have done the same thing. He said 
 as plainly as possible that her name was Grace." 
 
 " Who said ? " asked Mrs. Burmester mildly. 
 " Begin at the beginning, dear boy." 
 
 Mr. Barnes pulled himself together. 
 
 " When the old man was hit," he began deliber- 
 ately, " we took him along to the hospital tent, and 
 they told me to stay beside him for a bit and keep 
 an eye on him. So I did. And he was rambling on 
 about ' Grace ' — wanted a message sent to her, from 
 what I could make out. So, naturally, I asked for 
 her address. But he wasn't equal to that. So I 
 tried again. ' Is Grace your wife ? ' I asked ; and 
 he said as plainly as I'm saying it now, * Yes, my 
 wife.' There was a lot more I couldn't catch, so I 
 just scribbled the message down in my notebook to 
 make sure there was no mistake ; and before we could 
 get any further the poor chap pegged out. Then 
 I went back into the lines and got hit myself, 
 and thought no more about it for ever so long. 
 But after a time when I was getting better I remem- 
 bered it, and thinking to do somebody a kind turn, 
 I hunted up his address and wrote to his wife giving 
 her the message word for word as he gave it to me. 
 Of course," he added despairingly, "if her name 
 isn't Grace I have made a most unholy hash of it." 
 
194 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 " You have indeed," said Monty Drake, who was 
 naturally much interested, " and, if you don't mind 
 my saying so, you haven't improved matters by 
 talking about it. It's not the sort of story to 
 publish on the housetops." 
 
 " Lord, I never thought of that ! " said Mr. 
 Barnes ruefully. " However, it doesn't matter ; 
 we're all friends. I wonder what I ought to do now. 
 Mrs. Burmester, you have a kind heart, tell me. 
 Shall I have to go and explain it to Mrs. Massing- 
 ham, or what ? " 
 
 Monty laughed. 
 
 " That's rather a neat idea," he said pleasantly. 
 " I wish you'd thought of it while my aunt was here. 
 I'd give anything to hear you trying to explain 
 Grace away." 
 
 " Of course you can't do that," said Sybil 
 gravely. " It was a dreadful mistake to make ; 
 one ought to be so very careful." 
 
 " And I was careful," retorted Mr. Barnes 
 indignantly. " You should have seen the trouble I 
 took over that accursed letter ! It was a master- 
 piece of respectful sympathy. Never again, never 
 as long as I live, will I write to any more bereaved 
 relations." 
 
 " Was the message very incriminating ? " asked 
 Sybil. "I mean would it give any clue to Mrs. 
 Massingham as to who Grace was ? " 
 
 '* Not the slightest," said Mr. Barnes. " That's 
 one thing to be thankful for. He had evidently 
 something on his mind, and I was to tell Grace that 
 he had done what he could. He mentioned the word 
 ' money,' but it was all so incoherent that I couldn't 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 195 
 
 make head or tail of it, so I missed that out. Per- 
 haps it had nothing to do with her. At any rate, I 
 only repeated what I actually heard." 
 
 Sybil's curiosity appeared to be suddenly aroused. 
 
 " Money ? " she asked quickly. " Are you sure ? 
 Can't you remember anything more than the one 
 word ? Did you get the impression that the money 
 was for Grace ? " 
 
 " I didn't get any impression at all," replied Mr. 
 Barnes firmly. " The thing happened just as I have 
 told you, and I know no more about it than you do. 
 Thank the Lord I shall be in the peace and comfort 
 of the trenches in a couple of days ! This is too 
 utter wearin' to the nerves." 
 
 But Sybil was not satisfied. She looked search- 
 ingly at him as though there were many questions 
 the would like to have put. She did not, however, 
 pursue the subject ; it almost seemed as though on 
 second thoughts she deemed it wiser not to. She 
 smiled carelessly at the harassed young man. 
 
 " Your best plan now," she said lightly, "is to 
 try and find Grace." 
 
 " No, thank you," he replied with emphasis. 
 " Let some one else look for Grace. It would be a 
 nice job for Drake." 
 
 Captain Drake, watching them both closely, had 
 missed nothing. He noted Sybil's sudden eagerness 
 and her equally abrupt change of manner. Un- 
 doubtedly she knew something. But what ? And 
 how ? Not that if she did it surprised him very 
 much, for he held the usual fallacy that women could 
 never keep a secret, and the fact that Aunt Margaret 
 had probably spoken of his uncle's depravity to half 
 
196 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 her friends fully accounted for it reaching the ears of 
 Mrs. Burmester. 
 
 He rose to take his leave with a slightly bitter 
 smile. 
 
 " All right, Barnes," he said, " I'll keep an eye 
 lifting for the lady, but I expect Mrs. Massingham is 
 already on her track." 
 
 *' I don't envy Grace if she is," laughed Elsie. 
 
 " You need not waste any sympathy on her," 
 said Captain Drake drily ; " from all I can hear, she 
 is able to look after herself." 
 
 Sybil looked up quickly at his tone. 
 
 " Do you know who she is ? " she asked. 
 
 " No, I don't," replied Monty, meeting her eye 
 with meaning in his own. " Perhaps you can tell 
 me? " 
 
 A sudden apprehension seized her, and her glance 
 fluttered before his for a moment, but she quickly 
 recovered herself. 
 
 " I know nothing at all about it," she replied 
 indifferently. " Must you go ? Good-bye." 
 
 Monty left the flat with the feeling that she knew a 
 good deal more than she cared to admit. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 197 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE next morning when Sybil awoke she 
 found that her mind, working in dreams 
 while she slept, had come to a momentous 
 decision on its own account. 
 
 Monty's look of derisive amusement as he said 
 good-bye on the previous day had been troubhng her 
 exceedingly. She had an uneasy consciousness that 
 he had seen into her soul, and found there something 
 which she did not want anybody to know, certainly 
 not Monty with his quixotic, old-fashioned ideas. 
 It was absurd that a perfectly legitimate speculation 
 with part of her mysterious legacy should, under his 
 critical eye, have become a guilty secret of which she 
 was heartily ashamed, and the knowledge that it had 
 done so annoyed her extremely. 
 
 She was herself a very straightforward, candid 
 woman, and quite clever enough to know that in 
 following her own intuitions she would not go very 
 far wrong, not so far, at any rate, that she could not 
 skip back if necessary. But excuse herself as she 
 might, the horrid conviction was forced upon her 
 that, if Monty ever discovered what she had done, 
 his view of her conduct would differ very con- 
 siderably from her own ; and the reflection that she 
 had perhaps put herself in an equivocal position for 
 a sum of money, which she could quite easily have 
 
198 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 managed without, was one which depressed her 
 exceedingly. 
 
 Far into the night she had considered what would 
 be the best way out of her dilemma, but sleep had 
 overtaken her before she could make up her mind 
 about it. And now, sipping her morning tea, she 
 reaHsed that the thing had been done without her 
 conscious effort. The money must go back. Major 
 Cartwright — this was not a pleasant thought — must 
 be approached to refund the deposit paid on the 
 shares. It was a httle disappointing to see her 
 dreams of wealth fade away before her eyes, but she 
 was not in the least a money-loving woman ; like 
 most of us, she merely loved the things which 
 money would buy. 
 
 There could be Httle doubt that Colonel Massing- 
 ham's family were making certain investigations, 
 assisted by the light which Mr. Barnes had in- 
 advertently thrown on the doings of the poor man. 
 It was more than probable that in the course of time 
 somebody would ask questions about so large a sum 
 of money as five thousand pounds ; and, if it trans- 
 pired, through Evans or through any other channel, 
 that it had found its way into Mrs. Burmester's 
 banking account, her position would naturally take 
 a good deal of explaining. 
 
 Looking at it from this point of view, Sybil 
 realised with some alarm that she was in a much 
 worse pHght than she had known ; positively 
 appalling it was to think of what people might say, 
 and say with a very good show of reason. She 
 determined to lose no time in making a clean breast 
 of the whole affair before she was found out. One 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 199 
 
 must admit that honesty is often inspired by no 
 higher motive. 
 
 When breakfast was over she rang up her wild and 
 woolly South African on the telephone ; and here it 
 was that her good intentions received the first check. 
 Major Cartwright was not at his hotel. He had left 
 there the day before and was not expected back 
 until the evening. It was annoying, but nothing 
 further could be done, and she left a message asking 
 him to ring her up on his arrival. 
 
 Hardly had she placed the receiver in its socket 
 than the bell tinkled again, and, putting it to her 
 ear, she heard the voice of Monty Drake. 
 
 " I want to see you," he said. " Will you be at 
 home about three o'clock this afternoon ? " 
 
 '' If it's very important," rephed Sybil, who had a 
 busy day before her. 
 
 It was important, but could, if necessary, wait 
 until after dinner. 
 
 " Better say nine, then," said Sybil. " I have 
 promised to take duty at the depot this afternoon, 
 and shall not be home until seven. What do you 
 want to see me about ? " 
 
 " Grace," said the voice. 
 
 Grace again ! The word had already a sinister 
 significance. 
 
 " I'm afraid I really can't help you," said Sybil 
 with determination. 
 
 " Oh yes, you can," said Monty, for he was 
 determined too. 
 
 It seemed a long day to Mrs. Burmester. Even 
 the distraction of packing parcels for the Front could 
 not ease her mind of forebodings. The secret, which 
 
200 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 had only that day assumed its guilty aspect, lay 
 heavy on her conscience ; try as she might she could 
 think of nothing else, and Monty's inopportune visit 
 loomed ahead almost as a calamity. 
 
 If only she had been able to see Major Cartwright 
 first, so that she could have met him without 
 apprehension, the interview, being the first occasion 
 on which she had been alone with him since the night 
 of his proposal, would have had a certain attractive- 
 ness about it. But, as it was, she had to admit that 
 her heart quaked at the prospect of what might 
 happen ; and, although she was furious with herself 
 for being such a coward as to be afraid of Monty, her 
 fury abated nothing of her fear at the prospect before 
 her. 
 
 All that afternoon she worked with a zeal and 
 industry which aroused the admiration of everybody 
 in the packing room. She was indefatigable, and the 
 parcels flew from under her fingers as if by magic. 
 Even Lady Mary was moved to remark that she 
 wished there were a few more women like Mrs. 
 Burmester. 
 
 It was nearly eight o'clock before she reached the 
 little flat she called home. Very restful and cosy it 
 looked, with a bright fire burning in the drawing- 
 room, the curtains drawn, and Daisy waiting with a 
 welcome smile on her face and a nice little dinner in 
 the oven. She was much too tired to change her 
 dress, and, when the meal was over, she threw herself 
 into her big chair with a cigarette, thankful that her 
 ordeal would soon be over. 
 
 Promptly on the stroke of nine the door bell rang, 
 and Monty entered the room looking very fit and 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 201 
 
 cheery after his rush through the night air ; for he 
 had driven up alone from Woolwich and his car was 
 standing outside, under the eyes of the hall porter. 
 
 Sybil held out her hand to him and smiled a rather 
 tired welcome. 
 
 " It's too bad to worry you to-night," he 
 said. " Fm afraid you're overworking your- 
 self." 
 
 " I like work," said Sybil. " And it's good for 
 me." 
 
 " Well, don't overdo it," he advised easily, as he 
 took a seat opposite her. 
 
 There was not the slightest constraint in his 
 manner ; he spoke to her with the easy familiarity 
 of old ; whatever his feelings might be, he had 
 evidently no intention of airing them for her 
 edification, and she looked in vain for traces of a 
 broken or even a fractured heart. 
 
 " I won't keep you long," he began, " but there's 
 a matter I rather think you can help me with, if you 
 will. It's about old Massingham." 
 
 " Yes ? " she said, glad that he could not see the 
 panic in her heart. 
 
 " After I left you last night I called there on the 
 way home. Mrs. Massingham has been ringing me 
 up two or three times a day for the last week. I 
 must tell you that she has heard of this Grace whom 
 Barnes has kindly introduced to us all, and, through 
 my mother, has asked me to help her in the matter. 
 Personally I think it would be better left alone ; but 
 it appears that there is a large sum of money missing, 
 and the old lady is worrying about it." 
 
 " Naturally," said Sybil in a low voice. 
 
202 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 " I say," cried Monty solicitously, " you're too 
 tired to bother about it to-night. Tell me if you are, 
 and I will leave it to another time." 
 
 " No, I'm really not," said Sybil hastily. 
 
 She lighted another cigarette, and prepared to take 
 a more active interest in the difficulties of Mrs. 
 Massingham. 
 
 " Do you know Bernard .? " asked Monty. " No ? 
 Well, he's rather a young cub, although a nice boy in 
 many ways. His mother is afraid that this person 
 has got hold of him and is extracting hush money — 
 at least I gather that is the idea." 
 
 "It seems very involved," smiled Sybil. " Where 
 do I come in ? " 
 
 " You're coming in now," said Monty. " I 
 spotted, when Barnes was talking yesterday, that 
 you knew something, and, remembering that you 
 used to see a good deal of old Massingham, there 
 seemed to be just the chance that you could put us 
 on the right track. I suggested the idea to Aunt 
 Margaret and she was on it like a bird. She's 
 perfectly rabid about the whole thing." 
 
 " Is she really ? " said Sybil artlessly. " Well, 
 what do you want me to tell you ? " 
 
 "Do you know who Grace is ? " 
 
 " Haven't the slightest idea." 
 
 " You haven't ? " 
 
 He was watching her carefully, his intuitions 
 warning him that she was not speaking the truth. 
 We all know what intuitions are ! 
 
 " No," said Sybil again. " Colonel Massingham 
 was not likely to confide his irregularities to me. I 
 never suspected he had any." 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 203 
 
 " Then I was mistaken yesterday ? " suggested 
 Monty with steady persistence. 
 
 " Evidently," she said Hghtly. 
 
 He sat forward, screwing his monocle into its 
 place with a characteristic twist, and faced her 
 significantly. 
 
 '* Look here," he said quickly, " you do know 
 something — own up ! " 
 
 Sybil's temper rose at his tone. 
 
 " My dear Monty," she said with composure, '' I 
 am not a private inquiry agency. If you want 
 details about Colonel Massingham there are people 
 who, no doubt, could be induced to give them to 
 you." 
 
 Monty stared, somewhat taken aback. 
 
 " No, but, hang it," he said, *' I am only asking 
 you a simple question. If you know who she is there 
 can be no possible objection to saying so, to me at 
 any rate. I wish to goodness I'd never heard of the 
 woman ! " he added irritably. 
 
 " I tell you I do not know who she is," persisted 
 Sybil quietly, " but even if I did I should not feel I 
 was ^oing a very kind thing to poor old Massingham 
 by giving him away after his death." 
 
 Monty looked thoughtful. 
 
 " I quite see that," he said. 
 
 " So please don't ask me any more about him," 
 pursued Sybil, following up her advantage, with a 
 blessed sense of relief that matters were no worse. 
 
 But she was by no means out of the wood yet. 
 While she was congratulating herself on her escape, 
 the door opened, and a tall, ungainly man in a huge 
 overcoat burst into the room^ 
 
204 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 " Oh ! " gasped Sybil. 
 
 *' Kullo ! " cried Major Cartwright, striding for- 
 ward with a breezy laugh, perfectly sure of his 
 welcome. " I got your message, so I thought I'd 
 trot along and see what's doing." 
 
 " Oh, did you ? " almost panted Sybil. " How nice 
 of you. May I introduce Captain Drake, my — my 
 cousin ? " 
 
 " Glad to meet another member of the family," 
 said Cartwright, holding out a genial paw. 
 
 But Captain Drake was not at all genial. He 
 stiffened visibly. It was quite obviously an effort 
 to shake hands with the bounder. 
 
 Sybil remarked hastily that it seemed a fine 
 evening, and in the same breath implored her visitor 
 to find a chair, which he did, sprawling out his long 
 limbs in a manner that aroused instant aversion in 
 the breast of the more fastidious Captain Drake. 
 
 "It was funny that you should ring me up," went 
 on Major Cartwright. " I should have come along 
 anyhow to-night. I've got some glorious news for 
 you." 
 
 Evidently there was to be no escape. The worst 
 was about to happen, and Sybil braced herself to 
 meet it. 
 
 " That is nice ! " she observed pleasantly. 
 
 *' Yes. The deal is through. I had a wire from 
 Johannesburg this afternoon. Briggs has sold the 
 thing as it stands for twenty thousand pounds. 
 How's that for a bargain, eh ? " 
 
 His large, well-shaped mouth widened in a grin of 
 honest pleasure : he was delighted to be the bearer 
 of such glad tidings. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 205 
 
 " Your share of the loot will be two thousand 
 pounds," he continued. " A trifle over, because 
 Briggs managed to beat the feller down another 
 five hundred, so there's a little more sugar for the 
 bird than we reckoned." 
 
 Sybil beamed. She could not help it. So 
 excited was she at the brilliant success of her 
 venture that she forgot all about Monty and his 
 rigid code of ethics. It was a splendid moment. 
 She rose impulsively and held out her hand. 
 
 " Thank you so tremendously," she said. " I 
 feel it is too good to be true." 
 
 " It generally is," laughed Cartwright, seizing her 
 hand in his huge fist and wringing it till she winced 
 with pain. " But this time it isn't. You'll get the 
 cheque to-morrow morning. Don't spend it all at 
 once ! " 
 
 Monty was feeling very much out in the cold. His 
 glacial expression indicated that very plainly, and a 
 good deal more. But Sybil hardly noticed it. 
 
 " Aren't you pleased ? " she asked, turning gaily 
 to him. 
 
 " Fm delighted," he said. 
 
 But he was not obviously so. 
 
 Major Cartwright looked at him for almost the 
 first time. The type was antagonistic at sight. He 
 had met men like Captain Drake in South Africa 
 many times, and they had done nothing to endear 
 themselves to his memory. However, being, as he 
 had said, a whale on etiquette, he knew that all such 
 differences must be laid aside in a lady's drawing- 
 room. 
 
 " It was a nice Httle deal," he remarked. " Just 
 
 o 
 
2o6 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 a little thing got up amongst ourselves, without any 
 company promoters to eat the gilt off the ginger- 
 bread." 
 
 " Really ! " replied Monty in a most offensive 
 drawl adopted especially for the occasion. *' These 
 things are always a miracle to me. I understand 
 nothing about business." 
 
 Major Cartwright turned an incredulous eye upon 
 him. He looked as though he could hardly beUeve it 
 possible for a chap to be such a besotted fool. 
 
 '' So much the worse for you ! " he retorted 
 briefly. 
 
 " I quite agree with you," said Monty pohtely. 
 " It must be delightful to conjure up money out of 
 your inner consciousness ; I only wish I knew how 
 it was done." 
 
 " Easy enough," Major Cartwright assured him. 
 " All it needs is a little capital and the common sense 
 to use it." 
 
 " My cousin has common sense enough," admitted 
 Monty readily, " but I'm afraid, Hke the rest of us, 
 she has not much capital." 
 
 Sybil began to quake. And not without reason. 
 The cat was wriggling in the bag, waiting to jump out. 
 Major Cartwright loosened the string, and out it 
 came ! 
 
 " Mind you," he said, " I don't believe in specu- 
 lating with large sums — I've lost too much myself 
 over things that looked a dead cert. — but five 
 hundred pounds, as she had it lying handy, was not 
 much to risk on a thing of this kind." 
 
 Five hundred pounds ! Monty almost started, 
 but not quite. His eye, discreetly veiling his 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 207 
 
 astonishment, glanced across to where Sybil was 
 sitting, nearly rigid in her determined effort to look 
 as ordinary as possible. 
 
 But she would not meet it. The conviction was 
 forced upon him that she could not if she would, for 
 he knew perfectly well that wherever the money had 
 come from it had not been lying handy : she had 
 never made any secret of the fact that each quarter's 
 allowance was invariably spent long before it became 
 due. These reflections passed through his mind in 
 less time than it takes to record them ; conviction 
 that things were not as they should be seized him 
 in the microscopic moment that she avoided his eye. 
 Quite obviously she had done something of which 
 she was ashamed, and a sudden anger arose in him 
 against the man who was undoubtedly the cause 
 of it. 
 
 He knew, moreover, with instinctive certainty, 
 the humiliation she was suffering at the unexpected 
 exposure of her schemes, and his whole being 
 yearned towards her. Whatever foolishness she had 
 committed — and he never for a moment suspected 
 her of anything worse — he determined to stand by 
 her, to protect her if necessary from herself, and to 
 deliver her out of the hands of this insidious scoun- 
 drel. Explanations might and would take place 
 between them later, but for the present they must 
 show an absolutely undivided front to the enemy ; 
 and he turned towards Major Cartwright with a 
 civility he was very far from feeling. 
 
 " Thank you so much," he said easily. " It's 
 most kind of you to have advised her ; I'm sure 
 we're extremely obUged to you." That disposed of 
 
2o8 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 that ! " Are you staying long in England ? " he 
 went on conversationally. " My cousin tells me 
 you have come over from South Africa." That 
 showed the bounder that there had been no secrecy 
 about her friendship with him. 
 
 Major Cartwright, having a perfectly clear con- 
 science, responded with the utmost friendliness. 
 Business had detained him a short while in England ; 
 he was returning in a few days, possibly in a week, 
 to South Africa. They began to discuss the war 
 from two totally different standpoints : that is to 
 say, Major Cartwright laid down his opinion on the 
 subject, and Monty, in the intervals when the other 
 paused for breath, assisted with polite interjections, 
 such as " Quite ! " " Exactly ! " 
 
 It was a ghastly evening. Sybil, lying back in her 
 chair, felt almost faint with the anxiety of watching 
 the two men, so utterly at cross-purposes, so 
 fundamentally antagonistic, bearing with each other 
 for her sake. She took little part in the con- 
 versation, and her eyes rested curiously now on one, 
 now on the other. Monty, with his clean air of 
 breeding, the keen alertness bequeathed him by 
 generations of soldiers, and just a touch of indifferent 
 devilry that was all his own, appealed tremendously 
 to her. She loved him for the tact and ease with 
 which he was handling a difficult situation, but above 
 all for his being such a dear about it when he might 
 so easily and justly have been quite otherwise. 
 
 But Major Cartwright was being a dear too to the 
 best of his ability, and he came in for his full share 
 of appreciation. There was something so strong 
 and genuine, yet withal so ingenuous about him that 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 209 
 
 it was impossible not to like him. According to his 
 lights he had behaved beautifully, for she easily read 
 in his candid eye his opinion of her Monty ; and, if 
 his standards were not those of more fastidious and 
 enlightened people, at any rate his heart was in the 
 right place. 
 
 There were even moments when she felt a little 
 irritated by Monty's too obvious patronage. The 
 frequent appHcation of his glass eye as he pressed 
 for further information was quite evidently causing 
 Major Cartwright acute uneasiness. He wished to 
 be civil to it, but all his instincts loathed it, and he 
 looked more than once as if it would have afforded 
 him much pleasure to put his fist through its 
 immaculate surface. 
 
 It must be admitted that Monty's eyeglass was a 
 terrible weapon of offence, although we hasten to 
 add that he was totally unaware of the fact. He had 
 a way of dropping it with a startling jerk, catching 
 it as it fell, and, with slow deliberation, screwing it 
 back into its appointed place, making the while a 
 ferocious and most offensive grimace which might 
 or might not be essential to its proper adjustment. 
 At any rate it gave him a tremendous advantage over 
 his opponent who, minus a monocle, had no reason- 
 able excuse for returning the insult. Major Cart- 
 wright bore with it only by the exercise of the 
 greatest self-restraint. 
 
 At last the wretched hour was over, and Monty, 
 rising to take his leave, waited to see if the other man 
 would do the same, quite prepared to sit down again 
 if the hint was ignored. But it was obvious that 
 Mrs. Burmester was tired after her long day's work. 
 
210 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 Major Cart Wright said it was time she was in her 
 Httle bed, and shook hands with an almost affection- 
 ate pressure which did not escape the critical eye of 
 his adversary. 
 
 As he passed into the hall, Monty hesitated for a 
 moment, then turned and crossed over to where 
 Sybil was standing by the fire-place. His eyes 
 sought hers with a question, but she avoided them, 
 she was not quite ready to answer it. To admit 
 anything was to tell him all, and she had not yet 
 made up her mind whether to confide in him or not. 
 Besides — there was condemnation in his glance and 
 a hint of pity. She furiously resented them both, 
 and hardened her heart against him. 
 
 " I thought you'd gone," she said politely. 
 
 " No, I haven't gone yet," said Monty with a 
 curious inflexion in his voice. " I thought that — 
 perhaps you would like me to stay." 
 
 Sybil hesitated, looked uncertain, then she turned 
 abruptly from him. 
 
 " I think not," she said shortly. 
 
 " Is there nothing you want to tell me ? " asked 
 Monty kindly. " I do so much want to help you if 
 I can." 
 
 Sybil looked at him with a faint smile round her 
 lips. " Do I need help ? " she asked innocently. 
 
 " You know you do," said he. " Why won't you 
 tell me all about it ? " 
 
 " Because I don't like your expression," said 
 Sybil mutinously. " I hate that cold, critical, 
 superior look. Go away." 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 211 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 SATURDAY was always a busy day in Mrs. 
 Massingham's house, because everything had 
 to be so very clean for Sunday. Rooms 
 were swept and dusted ; floors were polished ; and 
 the brasses in the hall received an extra shine. 
 Even the dog had a bath on Saturday, and lay 
 shivering on the kitchen hearth-rug in a painful 
 ecstasy of cleanliness which was the nearest approach 
 to godHness the poor beast would ever know. Cook 
 baked her tarts and cakes to be ready for the next 
 day ; and the weedy little maid who was her willing 
 slave went down on her scraggy knees, and scoured 
 the stone passages so that her conscience might be 
 at ease on the day of universal rest. 
 
 Mrs. Massingham usually did her shopping alone 
 on Saturday mornings, Lovie being busy with the 
 shivering dog. Not that there was very much 
 shopping to be done, since everything had already 
 been ordered on Friday for the convenience of Cook ; 
 but it was a tradition in Blackheath that shopping 
 should be done on Saturday mornings, and a sort of 
 matron's parade took place in the village for the 
 edification or the undoing of the tradesmen, accord- 
 ing to their merits. On other days orders could be 
 written in the book brought round by a boy to the 
 back door, but on Saturdays a personal visit was 
 
212 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 prescribed ; it was the appointed day on which to 
 " speak about " the shortcomings of the previous 
 week, and to receive servile assurances that they 
 should not occur again. 
 
 But it so happened that, on the Saturday after 
 the events related in the last chapter, the Massing- 
 ham household was not able to pursue its usual 
 routine, partly by reason of a telegram from Bernard 
 announcing his return home that afternoon on 
 twenty-four hours' leave, which utterly disorganised 
 everybody ; and also because, although Saturday 
 was important, the Monday which followed it was 
 more so. On that day the Great High Festival of 
 the Housemaid was to be held. The Spring Cleaning 
 was to begin. 
 
 ''It is very awkward, everything coming to- 
 gether," said Mrs. Massingham to Lovie. " And 
 how I am going to crowd it all in I do not know. 
 But Bernard will not be here until four o'clock, so 
 that if I stay at home all the morning I shall have 
 time to do the library. I think you might do the 
 shopping for me, and I will ask Martha to wash the 
 dog. She will be annoyed, but I cannot help that." 
 
 " Togo hates Martha washing him," protested 
 Lovie. " I would rather he waited until this 
 afternoon ; I shall have time to do him before 
 Bernard comes." 
 
 " Yes, my dear, but you must not forget that 
 Cook has the kitchen floor scrubbed early on Satur- 
 day afternoon ; she will not be able to have you there. 
 Togo must be washed in the morning, or not at all." 
 
 " I shouldn't like Bernard to come home and see 
 him as dirty as he is now," said Lovie, " he looks a 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 213 
 
 perfect little horror. Could you not leave the 
 library until Monday, and let them begin on another 
 room ? " 
 
 " I could, of course," replied her aunt, " but 
 Martha has always begun with the library ; I should 
 hardly like to ask her to make a change after all 
 these years. It will not take me long. There are 
 only those two drawers ; the despatch cases might 
 be brought into the dining-room and be done any 
 time ; but the drawers I must do. It is most 
 awkward. Perhaps you could wash Togo before you 
 go out ? " 
 
 " Oh, but he would run about and catch cold," 
 said Lovie anxiously, " it always takes the whole 
 morning to get him properly dry. I had better sHp 
 out and do the shopping and try and do him when I 
 come back before lunch. Have you the list ready ? ' ' 
 
 "It is on the writing-table," said Mrs. Massing- 
 ham. " And don't forget to tell the butcher about 
 that tough leg of mutton. It was positively un- 
 eatable. I cannot help thinking it was frozen meat 
 sent to us by mistake. Tell him such a thing must 
 never occur again. I do wish I had been able to 
 speak to him myself, but you will know what to say. 
 Be very firm with him, Lovie ; say that I pay the 
 highest prices and I expect to be well served." 
 
 " Yes, ril tell him," said Lovie. 
 
 " And say that he must try and send the things a 
 little earlier. The beef yesterday was distinctly 
 underdone, and Cook assures me that it was not in 
 the house until nearly six o'clock." 
 
 " Very well," said Lovie, " I will scold him about 
 it." 
 
214 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 " Yes, do so, my dear, and say that if it occurs 
 again I shall certainly transfer my custom to 
 Grogan. Not that I should dream of doing so after 
 all these years, but it will frighten him, and make 
 him more careful." 
 
 " I will do my best," said Lovie, " but you are 
 much better at frightening people than I am. 
 They are always so polite and so sorry for everything 
 that I never have the heart to say what I really ought 
 to." 
 
 " And that they know perfectly well," said Mrs. 
 Massingham. " Tradespeople are extremely cun- 
 ning and know exactly when they can take advan- 
 tage. You must learn to hold your own with them 
 or you will never be a good housekeeper. Don't 
 forget to change the books at the library." 
 
 " Is there anything special you want to read ? " 
 asked Lovie. 
 
 *' No, I think not," said her aunt. " Ask for the 
 latest they have ; I do so dislike to see dirty books 
 lying about the house, especially on Sunday." 
 
 So Lovie, full of instructions, set forth to do the 
 morning shopping ; and Mrs. Massingham, after a 
 brief interview with Cook to alter the previously 
 arranged puddings to others more acceptable to her 
 son, summoned Evans and prepared to turn out 
 the last two drawers in the library. 
 
 She had to wait a little time, because he was still 
 busy with the breakfast silver ; but that she did not 
 mind at all : they were both agreed that every spoon 
 and fork must be in its appointed place before the 
 business of the day could proceed. 
 
 At length he appeared, shuffling along the hall in 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 215 
 
 his ill-fitting slippers, blowing his nose vigorously on 
 a dingy handkerchief. Mrs. Massingham greeted him 
 with her usual expression of philosophic resignation. 
 
 " Well, Evans," she said with forced cheerfulness, 
 *' we have not much more to do now. Let us begin 
 on the top drawer." 
 
 She was searching on her husband's ring for the 
 key, and, as she did so, a perplexed frown gathered 
 on her brow. 
 
 " I do not see the key here," she said. " Surely I 
 cannot have been mistaken ; it was a long, thin one, 
 was it not ? " 
 
 " I couldn't say, ma'am," replied Evans respect- 
 fully. 
 
 Anxiously she tried them all, one after the other 
 in the lock ; but not one of them would turn it. 
 
 " It is a most extraordinary thing," she muttered. 
 " I suppose I have got the right bunch ? " 
 
 *' That's the one the master always carried on 
 him," said Evans. 
 
 " I was sure of it," said Mrs. Massingham, " and of 
 course the key of his private drawer must have been 
 on this ring. Besides, I have already used it once ; 
 I came to this drawer a few days after his death to 
 get some papers. I certainly had no difficulty in 
 opening it then." 
 
 " Let me have a try," said Evans obhgingly, 
 taking the bunch from her hand and lowering 
 himself with some difficulty to his knees. 
 
 But it was no use. None of the keys would fit the 
 drawer in which Colonel Massingham had kept his 
 private papers ; and, after several futile attempts to 
 open it, Evans gave it up. 
 
2i6 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 " We'd better begin with the other drawer," he 
 said, " and I'll have a look round by and by to see if 
 I can find the other key." 
 
 " But where can it have gone to ? " cried Mrs. 
 Massingham. " That bunch has been in my writing- 
 table drawer the whole time. Who can have 
 removed it ? " 
 
 " That I couldn't say," repHed Evans dryly. 
 " It might be the lock's stuck. I'll get a drop of oil 
 and see if that'll do it." 
 
 Mrs. Massingham was far from satisfied. But 
 there was nothing for it but to get on with the other 
 drawer as Evans had sensibly suggested ; and she 
 proceeded to turn out the contents, reading carefully 
 through every paper to make quite sure that it 
 contained no reference to the matter which was 
 causing her so much anxiety. 
 
 But nothing was there. No trace of Grace, no 
 memorandum of the numbers of notes, no addresses 
 beyond such as could be accounted for. It was a 
 morning's work wasted, and she threw the last letter 
 into the grate with a gesture of impatience. 
 
 " It is most annoying about that key," she re- 
 marked crossly. " I cannot understand it at all." 
 
 ** More can't I," said Evans sympathetically. " I 
 suppose what you've done, you've taken it off, not 
 thinking, and put it on your own ring, knowing as it 
 was the drawer where he kept his special papers. 
 That's about what you've done." 
 
 *' I have done nothing of the kind, Evans," said 
 Mrs. Massingham tartly. " The key was on that 
 ring a month ago. Some one has taken it off. Are 
 you sure you know nothing about it ? " 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 217 
 
 Evans looked hurt. 
 
 " Me ! " he said indignantly. " What call should 
 I have to go to the master's private drawer ? Should 
 I ask Martha if she has touched it ? " 
 
 " Certainly not," said Mrs. Massingham sharply. 
 " I trust Martha absolutely. Bring me the despatch 
 case from under the table. I will do that before 
 lunch." 
 
 At four o'clock Bernard arrived, bursting into the 
 house like a boy just home from school. One is glad 
 to be able to report that the dog was waiting spotless 
 in the hall to receive him. Moreover, that the 
 kitchen floor was clean, the cakes ready for tea, the 
 butcher reduced to a proper penitence, and all 
 the duties of the day performed in their due 
 course. 
 
 He seemed to bring with him a breath of new life ; 
 his jolly laugh resounded through the quiet house, 
 and his noisy boots clattered over the polished floors 
 in a way that did his mother's heart good to hear. 
 As for Lovie, she was in the seventh heaven of 
 delight, his presence alone was enough to account for 
 that ; and the secret glances of understanding which 
 passed between them filled her eyes with a soft and 
 deUcious tenderness. Bernard thought he had 
 never seen her look prettier. 
 
 After dinner they all sat in the comfortable 
 drawing-room before a bright fire, and he told them 
 of his new Hfe, his hopes and his plans for the future. 
 And when his mother was called to the telephone, 
 and Lovie and he had the room to themselves for a 
 few minutes, it may be surmised that he made the 
 
2i8 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 most of his opportunity. At any rate she was very 
 pink and sedate when her aunt returned to her seat 
 by the fireside. 
 
 It was eleven o'clock before they were ready to go 
 to bed. Bernard, as head of the house, tried the 
 front door to see that Evans had properly fastened 
 the bolts, and, finding that it was securely barred 
 against intruders, was about to follow his ladies up 
 the darkened staircase, when Lovie, like the dear, 
 kind-hearted little thing she was, came tripping down 
 to retrieve a handkerchief inadvertently left in the 
 drawing-room. 
 
 Of course Bernard had to help her to find it, and 
 the firelight flickered benignly over the two young 
 things as they said good night : his arms around her, 
 her face raised for the kisses which she was much too 
 innocent to deny him. It was a brief and blessed 
 moment : too brief to satisfy either of them, and 
 all the more blessed for that had they known it, 
 which of course they did not. 
 
 A couple of hours later the house was wrapped in 
 silence. Not a sound was to be heard save the 
 ticking of the old grandfather clock which stood in 
 the hall. Mrs. Massingham, in her large, luxurious 
 bed, turned restlessly on her pillows and longed for 
 sleep as she had often longed for it lately. There 
 were times when loneliness so oppressed her that she 
 would gladly have welcomed back her snoring 
 Wilfred, with his tiresome, fidgety ways and his 
 restless appropriation of more than his share of 
 the bed-clothes. 
 
 As she lay there the clock struck a sonorous two, 
 and she realised, much to her surprise, that she had 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 219 
 
 been asleep without knowing it. Something, she 
 thought, must have awakened her, and, after Hsten- 
 ing for a moment, she fancied she heard sounds as of 
 some one moving about downstairs. She sat up in 
 bed, holding her breath. There was certainly some- 
 thing. Cautiously she got out of bed, and, throwing 
 on a red flannel dressing-gown, turned the handle of 
 her door without making a sound. There was 
 nothing to be heard now ; the dead silence of a 
 sleeping house lay in the dark corridor. It seemed 
 a pity, she thought, to awaken Bernard unless there 
 was really something the matter ; and, after 
 assuring herself that all was perfectly still, she 
 stepped softly along the carpeted passage to the top 
 of the stairs. Peeping over the banisters her heart 
 gave a sudden leap of fear, for a thin line of light 
 under the library door told her that some one was 
 within the room. 
 
 There could no longer be any doubt that burglars, 
 expected with dread for years, had at last visited the 
 house. Mrs. Massingham shivered with appre- 
 hension, but pulled herself together with a sigh of 
 relief as she remembered that at any rate there was 
 nothing of any great value in the room they had 
 chosen to rifle. 
 
 But of course burglars were often dangerous. 
 Fire-arms and jemmies had been known to do 
 desperate deeds ; and her maternal instincts arose in 
 alarm at the thought of Bernard, who would cer- 
 tainly plunge downstairs and tackle them if he 
 discovered they were there. It was possible, how- 
 ever, that he had heard nothing, and that, with the 
 aid of Evans, the police might be summoned without 
 
220 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 arousing the suspicions either of her foolhardy son or 
 of the burglars themselves. 
 
 Swiftly she sped along to the servants' quarters 
 and with trembHng fingers knocked softly on the 
 door of the room which Evans called his own. 
 There was no reply ; and, the door being half open, 
 she put her head inside to listen. Not a sound 
 could she hear. The conviction forced itself upon 
 her mind that the room was empty, and she pro- 
 ceeded cautiously towards the bed, groping with 
 both hands to feel her way. 
 
 As she had expected, there was no sleeping Evans 
 under the bed-clothes ; and her expression hardened 
 as she turned to leave the room. There could be no 
 possible doubt that Evans was responsible for the 
 light under the library door ; and, gathering her 
 dressing-gown around her ample figure, she softly 
 padded down the back staircase, through the baize 
 door which led into the hall, until she came to the 
 room in which Evans was busy with his nefarious 
 midnight work. 
 
 It required a certain amount of courage to turn the 
 handle ; but Mrs. Massingham did not lack that, as 
 we know ; and with an expression of determined 
 dignity, which, however, was not enhanced by the 
 meagre grey pig-tail hanging down her back, she 
 boldly entered the room. 
 
 A curious sight met her eyes. Evans was kneeling 
 on the floor beside the drawer which they had not 
 been able to open that morning ; a lighted candle 
 stood on the table above him, and he was searching 
 eagerly amongst the papers with his brown, clumsy 
 old hands. So silently had she opened the door, 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 221 
 
 and so engrossed was he in his work, that he had not 
 noticed her entrance, and she stood for a moment 
 watching him, anger and consternation on her face. 
 
 As she looked, he made a sudden dive forward, and 
 snatched up a square envelope which he held to the 
 light of the candle, peering bUndly at it to make sure 
 what was written there. 
 
 With a little inarticulate murmur of satisfaction 
 he thrust it into his pocket, and at the same moment, 
 half turning towards the door, became aware of his 
 mistress standing on the threshold. 
 
 The two faced each other for one intense moment ; 
 their eyes met as they had never met before in frank 
 challenge ; and the long-suppressed resentment of 
 years blazed into open hostility. 
 
 Mrs. Massingham was the first to speak. Her tone 
 was cold and very hard. 
 
 " What are you doing here, Evans ? " she 
 demanded. 
 
 The authority in her eyes caused the old man to 
 lower his own ; he had been a servant all his life 
 and the habit of years was strong upon him. He was 
 hard put to it to hold his own, but made a courageous 
 effort to save the situation. 
 
 " I was just looking to see if this here key would 
 fit that drawer," he rephed with every sign of 
 nervousness. 
 
 Mrs. Massingham made no comment. None was 
 needed ; her expression plainly indicated what she 
 thought of such feeble subterfuge. 
 
 " Not being able to go to sleep," went on Evans 
 perseveringly, " I happened to remember this key 
 was in a vase on the chimney-piece, and I thought 
 
 p 
 
222 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 to meself I'd just slip down and see if it would 
 fit." 
 
 Mrs. Massingham's eye did not waver, he felt it 
 piercing him like a gimlet. 
 
 " You are an untruthful old man," she said 
 severely. " What have you taken out of that 
 drawer ? " 
 
 " Me ? " said Evans in surprise. " I never took 
 nothing." 
 
 " I saw you take something," persisted his 
 mistress uncompromisingly. " I saw you put a 
 letter in your pocket. Give it to me, if you please." 
 
 Evans looked very dejected. 
 
 *' I had no business to go to that drawer, I know 
 that very well," he admitted dismally. " And I 
 never would 'a gorne only for one thing. It was 
 just a fancy I had, and if he'd been here he wouldn't 
 'a grudged it to me, so finding as 'ow the key fit, I 
 took it upon meself to see if there was one about." 
 
 " What are you talking about ? " asked Mrs. 
 Massingham, bewildered, as well she might be, with 
 this rigmarole. 
 
 " I want a photo of the master," said Evans, 
 surer now of his ground. " There was one took the 
 last time we went fishing. I thought it might be in 
 this drawer and I was just lookin' for it when you 
 come in." 
 
 " Is that what you put in your pocket ? " de- 
 manded Mrs. Massingham relentlessly. 
 
 " I never put nothing in my pocket," persisted 
 Evans. 
 
 " Do not tell me an untruth, you wicked old 
 man," said Mrs. Massingham firmly. " I saw you 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 223 
 
 put something in your pocket. You cannot deceive 
 me." 
 
 " Excuse me contradicting you, ma'am," replied 
 Evans, with more respect than his wont, " but you 
 couldn't have seen me, because I never put nothing 
 in." 
 
 He had the appearance of an early Christian 
 martyr, and Mrs. Massingham stared at him in 
 exasperation. That mild and calf -like expression 
 had thwarted her on many a previous occasion. 
 She knew it covered a multitude of sins. 
 
 " I insist on knowing what you have taken from 
 my drawer," she said firmly, " and if you will not 
 show me of your own accord I shall call in the police. 
 I shall be sorry to do so, but I will not be robbed 
 with my eyes open. If it is, as you say, a photo- 
 graph, there is no reason why you should not show 
 it to me ; whether I shall allow you to keep it after 
 your disgraceful behaviour is a matter I must decide 
 later." 
 
 " If I'd taken a photo I should say so at once," 
 replied Evans with some dignity. " I'm not one to 
 'ide me faults ; but as true as I'm standing here, I 
 haven't taken it, I was only looking for it." 
 
 Mrs. Massingham, however, was not to be con- 
 vinced. 
 
 " Turn out your pocket," she commanded, " your 
 right pocket, if you please, and if you prove to me 
 that there is nothing in it, then I am sorry that I 
 have accused you wrongly." 
 
 Evans began to breathe quickly ; it was evident 
 that he was at his wit's end. 
 
 " There's a fine thing to say ! " he croaked in 
 
224 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 agitation. " It's a nice thing if I have to be called 
 a thief and a liar after all these years. What would 
 the master say to hear you go on like this ? Why, 
 even if I 'ave been looking in his drawers, what of 
 it ? Haven't I been here many a time before ? As 
 often as not 'is keys was in my pockets ; he'd leave 
 them about knowing they were as safe with me as 
 what they were with him. It's a cruel shame, 
 that's what it is ; and, if he was here, he'd say the 
 same." 
 
 His voice was breaking and his lips trembled ; 
 but Mrs. Massingham's resolve was not to be shaken 
 by his distress. 
 
 " You know very well that if your master had 
 found you prowling about his papers in the dead of 
 night he would say exactly the same to you as I am 
 saying. It is nothing less than robbery. Turn out 
 your pockets at once, or I will call Master Bernard 
 and send for the police. You are a wicked old man. 
 For years you have been allowed to do exactly as you 
 like, and this is the result. Goodness only knows 
 what else you have helped yourself to ! For all I 
 know you may have been stealing things from us for 
 years ; it would not surprise me in the least." 
 
 This was too much for Evans ; he gulped down his 
 indignation and the tears rose in his eyes. 
 
 " Oh, it wouldn't surprise you, wouldn't it ? " he 
 cried. " Me ! what's served you so faithful all these 
 years, and this is all the thanks I get ! But I never 
 expected anything else from you. I'm a thief and a 
 liar ! I only wish 'e was here to hear you say it ! " 
 
 " Prove to me that you are not," said Mrs. 
 Massingham sternly, " and I am perfectly willing to 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 225 
 
 take back what I have said. Turn out your 
 pockets." 
 
 " Never ! " cried Evans, thrusting his hands deep 
 into them. ** I'll not turn out no pockets." 
 
 Without a pause Mrs. Massingham crossed over to 
 where a bell rope was hanging near the fire-place, 
 and pulled it sharply. It was evident that she 
 would be trifled with no longer. Her face was set in 
 stern resolve as the noise echoed with startling 
 reverberation throughout the house. 
 
 " For Gord's sake let be, ma'am ! " begged Evans 
 piteously. " Can't you believe me ? It's the gospel 
 truth I haven't taken nothing of yours ! " 
 
 " No, I cannot," replied Mrs. Massingham, 
 persevering with her vigorous onslaught on the bell- 
 rope. " I do not believe a word you say. You are 
 a deceitful old man. You always have been." 
 
 It was a very short time before the whole house- 
 hold was aroused by Mrs. Massingham's summons, 
 Bernard was downstairs first, and, guided by the 
 light, rushed straight into the library. 
 
 " What's up ? What's the matter ? " he asked, 
 his eyes still blinking with sleep. 
 
 " I found Evans going through your father's 
 papers," said Mrs. Massingham. " He has put one 
 of them in his pocket and will not give it to me." 
 
 Bernard looked in amazement from one to the 
 other of the strange pair : his mother in her dressing- 
 gown and an unfamiliar pigtail ; and Evans, attired 
 only in a coat and pair of trousers pulled hastily 
 over his pyjamas. 
 
 " Good Lord ! " he said feebly. *' What's it all 
 about, Evans ? What have you been doing ? " 
 
226 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 Evans opened his mouth to speak, but no sound 
 came from between his dry Hps. Twice he tried to 
 say something, then with a gasp tottered forward 
 and would have fallen had not Bernard caught him 
 in his strong young arms. 
 
 " I say, mater, he's ill ! " he cried in dismay. 
 " What shall I do with him ? " 
 
 *' Put him on the sofa," said his mother. " I am 
 not at all surprised at his being ill the wicked old man. 
 He is naturally frightened at being found out." 
 
 Evans was not quite unconscious but was 
 breathing with great difficulty ; and Bernard half 
 carried, half led him over to the sofa and laid him 
 gently down with his head resting on one of the big 
 leather pillows. 
 
 *' I'm sure he's pretty bad," he said. " Hadn't 
 you better ring up for the doctor ? " 
 
 Mrs. Massingham walked over and laid her hand 
 on the old man's pulse ; and as she did so, Evans, 
 with a spasmodic movement, clutched his right hand 
 pocket. 
 
 " Don't worry him," said Bernard. " You might 
 get a little biandy, and then ring up ; his heart is 
 going like a sledge hammer ; he can't keep it up long 
 at this pace." 
 
 As Mrs. Massingham left the room, Evans opened 
 his eyes and fixed them in an imploring gaze on the 
 young face which was bending over him. 
 
 '* Master Bernard," he said, so low that the words 
 seemed hardly to leave his Hps, " there's a letter in 
 my pocket " 
 
 He gave a deep sigh of exhaustion, and again 
 relapsed into semi-unconsciousness. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 227 
 
 " All right," said Bernard reassuringly. " Don't 
 worry ; nobody thinks you've stolen it, we know you 
 too well." 
 
 " Take it out ! Be quick ! " breathed the old man. 
 
 And Bernard, to pacify him, put his hand in the 
 dingy coat pocket and drew out a large square 
 envelope. 
 
 " That's it," said Evans in trembling tones. 
 " You'll see who it's for. Give it to 'er. I'm a 
 dying man, Master Bernard ; I can do no more." 
 
 " All right, I'll see to it," said Bernard. " But 
 you're a long way from dying yet, silly old goat," he 
 added affectionately. " Don't lose heart, you'll be 
 all right presently." 
 
 Evans made no reply, he was gasping for breath 
 now. 
 
 " Lean down," he panted after a long pause. 
 
 And Bernard leaned over him to catch his broken 
 words. 
 
 " Don't let yer ma read it — I promised — she 
 shouldn't." 
 
 " Is it a letter of my father's ? " asked Bernard. 
 
 " Yes — he give it to me — it got lost — I only just 
 found it," sighed Evans. 
 
 " And is it addressed ? Who is it to go to ? " 
 
 " It says on the back. Oh," he groaned bitterly, 
 " I promised 'im so faithful I'd see to it, and now I 
 can't — I can't." 
 
 He lay back exhausted as Mrs. Massingham 
 entered the room with a decanter of brandy and a 
 tumbler, followed by the rest of the household in 
 varying stages of hysteria and undress. 
 
 Between them they managed to pour some of the 
 
228 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 spirit into the old man's mouth, but it was soon quite 
 evident that he was very ill indeed. He lay per- 
 fectly still ; his face was ghastly pale against the 
 dark cushions, and only a slight spasmodic move- 
 ment of his blue lips showed that life was still in him. 
 
 Presently he opened his eyes. They were full of a 
 new, unearthly light, brilhant, and fixed on a radiant 
 something, far away. He made an eager effort to 
 rise, and a smile of blessed relief spread over his 
 rugged old face. 
 
 "I'm coming, sir ! " he cried in quavering, excited 
 tones. " I won't be long — just a minute — I'll be 
 there ! " 
 
 And with a deep-drawn breath, which shook his 
 whole frame, the old servant answered his last 
 summons. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 229 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 TO say that Evans was deeply mourned by 
 everybody would be to exaggerate the 
 general feeling ; he had been too morose 
 and cantankerous an old man, especially during the 
 last few weeks, for his loss to be very much regretted. 
 But his death cast a gloom over the entire household, 
 and the Sunday which followed it was a dismal day 
 indeed. 
 
 Martha, silent and uncomplaining, took upon 
 herself some of his duties, and Lovie shared the 
 remainder with the kitchen-maid. Bernard hastily 
 applied for an extension of leave, in order to spare 
 his mother the anxiety of the funeral arrangements ; 
 and Mrs. Massingham herself, after the departure of 
 the doctor, took to her bed and refused to leave it. 
 
 When breakfast was over, and Lovie was con- 
 siderately helping Martha to clear the table, Bernard 
 went up to his mother's room and sat on the edge 
 of the bed ; and such was the universal disorganisa- 
 tion that his cigarette was allowed to pass un- 
 reproved, almost unnoticed in a room which had 
 never before known the profanation of tobacco 
 smoke. 
 
 " You know, I have been thinking," said Mrs. 
 Massingham, who was propped up in immaculate 
 pillows and looking much more like herself than she 
 
230 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 had done a few hours previously, " I have been 
 wondering what I ought to do about that letter of 
 which I spoke last night. There is not the slightest 
 doubt in my mind that poor Evans was there for no 
 other purpose than to steal it. I saw him distinctly, 
 with my own eyes, put it into his pocket." 
 
 Bernard blew a whiff of smoke into the air with an 
 elaborate assumption of carelessness. 
 
 " I shouldn't worry about it," he advised. 
 
 " I do not agree with you," said his mother. " It 
 is evidently of some importance or he would not 
 have taken all the trouble to lose the key. I told 
 you what happened about that, you remember, when 
 you came home. The key had been deliberately 
 taken off the ring." 
 
 " You think he took it off ? " suggested Bernard 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " Undoubtedly," said Mrs. Massingham. ** And 
 I am equally convinced that there is a letter in his 
 pocket at this moment which belongs to me. I 
 think, my dear, that under the circumstances you 
 should see about it." 
 
 Bernard paused before replying. He was a very 
 simple character with a natural distaste for intrigue 
 or even evasion ; but it seemed that in spite of himself 
 it had been impossible lately to avoid deceiving his 
 mother. 
 
 " Well, I don't know," he said dubiously. " Some- 
 body will have to go through his things, I suppose ; 
 and if there is anything there belonging to you it will 
 reach you sooner or later." 
 
 " I think it would be better for you to see what 
 is there now," persisted his mother. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 231 
 
 "Do you really ? " said Bernard. "I'm afraid I 
 don't agree with you, mater. It's not my job at all." 
 
 Mrs. Massingham looked a trifle annoyed. 
 
 " I am sorry to insist, my dear," she said with mild 
 emphasis, " but I must tell you that there are very 
 urgent reasons why I should see this letter, or paper, 
 or whatever it is. It may be most important ; so 
 much so that, although, as you may imagine, it 
 would be extremely repugnant to me, if you will not 
 go and get it for me I must get it myself." She 
 sighed. " Since your father's death I seem to have 
 had nothing but worry and anxiety ; you little know 
 what I have been through, and I do not wish that 
 you should ; but I cannot help feeUng that it would 
 only be kind of you to spare me this little extra 
 unpleasantness. Surely it is a very small thing for 
 me to ask ! " 
 
 Bernard rose from his seat and began to pace 
 restlessly up and down the room, and his mother 
 watched him with glistening eyes ; she had so often 
 seen his father doing exactly the same thing. 
 
 " Since you talk like that," he said deliberately, 
 " I had better tell you that there is no letter in 
 Evans's pocket. He gave it to me himself, last 
 night before he died." 
 
 Mrs. Massingham stared at him in surprise. 
 
 " Oh, did he really ? " she cried. " I am glad of 
 that. May I see it ? " 
 
 " No," said Bernard awkwardly, " I'm afraid you 
 can't see it. He particularly asked me not to show 
 it to you." 
 
 " Indeed ! " exclaimed Mrs. Massingham. " And 
 for what reason ? " 
 
232 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 " I don't quite know," replied Bernard. " I 
 couldn't make out exactly what it was all about ; 
 but it seems that father gave it to him before he 
 died. I gather that it has been lost, and that Evans 
 found it only last night. At any rate nobody was 
 to know anything about it." 
 
 " Exactly ! " said Mrs. Massingham with a note of 
 triumph in her voice. " I am not at all surprised to 
 hear it. I was well aware that there was something 
 of the kind going on behind my back. However, 
 there is no longer any need for all this absurd 
 secrecy, so you may as well give me the letter at 
 once." 
 
 Bernard looked obstinate. 
 
 ** I'm afraid not," he said quietly. " I rather 
 thought of sending it off by registered post to- 
 morrow morning." 
 
 Mrs. Massingham perceived that guile must be 
 employed. She knew from long experience that 
 opposition with Bernard was worse than useless. 
 
 " Very well then, my dear," she said serenely, 
 " if it is your opinion that your mother ought to be 
 kept in ignorance of what takes place in her own 
 house, I have nothing more to say. As your father's 
 widow I should have thought that whatever papers 
 were in his possession at the time of his death would 
 naturally revert to me ; but I do not wish to press 
 my authority. I feel a little hurt at your want of 
 confidence, but of that I will say nothing." 
 
 Bernard looked extremely uncomfortable. 
 
 " I say, mater," he exclaimed reproachfully, 
 " you are not taking it in the right way at all. It is 
 not a matter of confidence between you and myself. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 233 
 
 but merely that I feel I ought to carry out what I 
 promised Evans to do. The letter has probably 
 nothing at all to do with either of us." 
 
 " I have said what I feel on the subject," re- 
 marked his mother coldly. " This is not the first 
 time lately that you have seen fit to hide your affairs 
 from me. No doubt from your own point of view 
 you are quite right ; at any rate I shall not insist on 
 what ought to be freely given as a matter of affection 
 between us." 
 
 Bernard frowned angrily as he strode up and down 
 the room. 
 
 " You are putting me in a very awkward position," 
 he said. " Can't you see that it is utterly impossible 
 for me to show you a letter which was given me in 
 confidence by a man on his death-bed ? " 
 
 " How absurd you are ! " retorted his mother. 
 " I am not asking you to betray Evans's confidence. 
 x\ll I want is my own letter, the letter he stole from 
 me. Surely that is not unreasonable ! Especially 
 as I have the best of reasons for beHeving that it 
 concerns a very important matter of — of — business. 
 Your father's affairs are causing me a great deal of 
 anxiety ; there are papers relating to a large sum of 
 money which are missing ; and I am convinced — I 
 have no definite proof of it, but my instinct tells me 
 — that Evans knew much more about it all than he 
 ought to have done." 
 
 " Your instinct in this case is misleading you," 
 said Bernard definitely. " It is not a business letter 
 at all." 
 
 " How do you know that ? " asked his mother 
 quickly. 
 
234 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 " It is addressed to a person with whom my father 
 had no business of any kind," he repHed steadily 
 
 " I suppose I may at least be allowed to inquire 
 the name of this mysterious person ? " pursued Mrs. 
 Massingham relentlessly. 
 
 " I'm sorry I can't tell you," said Bernard with a 
 determination equal to her own. " I think we had 
 better not talk about it any more." 
 
 Mrs. Massingham was really angry. Such op- 
 position was indeed hard to bear from her own son. 
 
 " But indeed we will talk about it," she said 
 inflexibly. " If you will not give it to me of your 
 own free will, I shall take what means I think fit to 
 make you do so. You have no legal right, nor any 
 other right, to a letter which belongs to me. I will 
 not be thwarted in this way. The letter is mine and 
 I intend to have it." 
 
 Bernard smiled, a chilly, mirthless smile which his 
 mother knew very well. 
 
 " All right then," he said briefly. " We need 
 not argue about it. Get it, if you can." 
 
 " I can and I will," said Mrs. Massingham, with a 
 look of ruthless determination on her face. " Kindly 
 ring the bell." 
 
 " Look here, mother," said Bernard peaceably, 
 as he crossed the room, " don't go and get yourself 
 upset about nothing. There is no earthly need for 
 us to quarrel about the blessed thing." 
 
 " I am not aware that I am quarrelling," replied 
 his mother frigidly. " I am certainly not going to 
 allow you or anybody else to dictate to me in my own 
 house. I have always been mistress here and I 
 intend to remain so. Am I to sit calmly down and 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 235 
 
 allow myself to be robbed, first by Evans and then 
 by my own son ? For it is nothing less than that, 
 Bernard. Whatever silly ideas you may have got 
 into your head about your obligations to Evans, 
 there is no getting away from the fact that, on your 
 father's death, his property passed absolutely to me. 
 Everything which belonged to him belongs now to 
 me, that letter included." 
 
 Bernard began to look doubtful at this able 
 interpretation of his mother's rights ; there was 
 certainly something to be said for her point of view. 
 But, before he could properly focus it in his own 
 mind, the door opened and Lovie entered the room. 
 
 " Did you ring ? " she asked brightly. " Martha 
 is doing the silver. Can I do anything for you ? " 
 
 *' Yes, if you please," replied her aunt severely. 
 " I want you to ring up Montague Drake on the 
 telephone and ask him if he will come over at once. 
 I wish to consult him on an important matter of 
 business. Say that I most particularly wish to see 
 him this morning, if possible." 
 
 Lovie glanced at Bernard. His clouded face told 
 her that a domestic storm of a familiar kind was in 
 progress. On these occasions discretion was dis- 
 tinctly the better part of valour ; and, after a 
 sympathetic and reassuring smile at him, she left 
 the room. 
 
 A few minutes later he joined her downstairs, and 
 related the conversation which had taken place 
 between his mother and himself. 
 
 " What do you think I ought to do about it ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 Lovie considered for a moment. Having been 
 
236 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 behind the scenes, she reahsed that there might be 
 more in it than met the eye. 
 
 " Do you think it's important ? " she asked. 
 
 " I know very well it's not," replied Bernard. 
 " I can't for the life of me see that it matters two 
 straws who knows about it. It's just a whim of the 
 old man's. My idea is that the gov'nor gave it to 
 him to post and that somehow or other he managed 
 to mislay it. I expect he has been looking for it all 
 this time and it has become a sort of obsession. 
 Otherwise, being addressed to whom it is, there is no 
 earthly reason for keeping it dark." 
 
 "Of course," said Lovie thoughtfully, "Evans never 
 liked Aunt Margaret ; it may be just a Httle spite." 
 
 " Exactly," said Bernard. " I was an utter fool 
 to say anything about it ; but it never occurred to 
 me that there would be all this fuss. I expect the 
 mater is quite right in saying that it really belongs to 
 her ; but, all the same, I don't feel hke giving it up 
 after what I said to Evans. Poor old devil, it would 
 be playing it rather low down on him ! " 
 
 " Better wait and see what Monty thinks about 
 it," advised Lovie sensibly. " He will be here by 
 lunch time. Where is the letter now ? " 
 
 " I left it in my dressing-gown pocket," rephed 
 Bernard. " Perhaps," he added quickly, " I ought 
 to go and lock it away." 
 
 Two at a time he bounded up the stairs and into 
 his bedroom. 
 
 But he was too late. As he entered the room, his 
 mother, attired in her red flannel dressing-gown, met 
 him on the threshold ; and the expression of virtuous 
 triumph on her face told its own tale. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 237 
 
 Bernard flushed to the roots of his hair, as he 
 reaUsed what had happened. 
 
 " Have you taken that letter out of my pocket ? " 
 he demanded with pardonable rudeness. 
 
 ** Yes, my dear, I have/' replied his mother 
 complacently. 
 
 Bernard regarded her in helpless indignation. 
 
 " Well, I'm dashed ! " he exclaimed. " Fancy 
 your nipping out of bed like that ! " 
 
 Mrs. Massingham could not repress a smile of 
 demure satisfaction. 
 
 " You are surprised to find your mother is not such 
 a silly old woman as you thought her ? " she observed 
 pleasantly. 
 
 " I never thought you a silly old woman," retorted 
 Bernard hotly, " but I did think you had more 
 decency than to go and sneak a fellow's letter out of 
 his pocket." 
 
 " It is my letter," corrected his mother mildly. 
 
 " Oh, very well," he muttered crossly. " Have it 
 your own way." 
 
 *' I intend to do so," replied Mrs. Massingham, 
 with composure. 
 
 " Well, I can tell you this," went on Bernard 
 vehemently, " Monty Drake will be furious. What 
 do you suppose he will have to say about it ? " 
 
 " I shall be particularly interested to hear what he 
 has to say about it," replied Mrs. Massingham. " I 
 am more than ever anxious to have his opinion now 
 that I see to whom your father's letter is addressed. 
 Please tell Lovie not to send my luncheon upstairs ; 
 I have decided to get up. I shall see you at the 
 table." 
 
238 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 With a victorious sweep of red flannel she entered 
 her room, leaving her son to fume at his own 
 impotence on the landing outside her closed door. 
 
 At one o'clock precisely Monty Drake arrived in 
 his car from Woolwich. He was in parade uniform 
 and looked very smart and well-groomed as he sprang 
 up the steps leading to his aunt's front door. 
 
 Mrs. Massingham met him in the hall, soberly 
 attired now in black silk. But there was nothing 
 suggestive of mourning in her blithesome eye ; never 
 had she looked more handsome as she ushered him 
 into the drawing-room. 
 
 " Luncheon is not until half-past one," she 
 explained. " There will be time, I think, for us to 
 have our little chat before the gong rings." 
 
 She thereupon proceeded to relate to him in full 
 detail the events of the last twenty-four hours, 
 beginning with the mysterious disappearance of the 
 key, and ending with the moment when she had 
 been seized with the bright idea of abstracting the 
 bone of contention from the pocket of her refractory 
 son. 
 
 ** And I am more than glad that I did so," she 
 concluded. " I consider it almost providential that 
 I should have been guided to the exact spot ; another 
 minute and it would have been too late, for he rushed 
 up the stairs just as I was taking it out of his pocket." 
 
 Monty was regarding her with unconcealed 
 amusement. 
 
 ** So you won by a short head," he remarked 
 amiably. ** And now your mind is at rest, I hope. 
 Of course the letter was meant for Grace ? " 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 239 
 
 Mrs. Massingham looked very mysterious. 
 
 " I am not sure," she replied slowly. " What is 
 Mrs. Burmester's Christian name ? " 
 
 Monty stared frankly at her. 
 
 " Mrs. Burmester ? " he repeated in amazement. 
 " Was it addressed to her ? " 
 
 " It was," said his aunt, not attempting to hide 
 her satisfaction at the impression her discovery had 
 made on her usually impassive nephew. 
 
 But even as she looked, all interest faded out of his 
 face, and he resumed his normal lack of expression. 
 It was hardly a surprise to him to learn that Sybil 
 was involved in his late uncle's affairs, but he had no 
 intention of sharing this conviction with his aunt. 
 
 " Was it really ? " he said. " That was rather 
 disappointing, after all the trouble you had taken. 
 I was hoping that we were on the track of Grace at 
 last." 
 
 " Perhaps we are," remarked Mrs. Massingham 
 with sinister meaning. 
 
 Monty laughed. 
 
 '* Mrs. Burmester's name is Sybil," he said 
 lightly. " Sybil Fairfax, I believe ; certainly not 
 Grace." 
 
 " I think it is, nevertheless, a most extraordinary 
 thing that there should be all this mystery about a 
 letter from my husband to her," said Mrs. Massing- 
 ham tenaciously. 
 
 " As far as I can see," said Monty, " you have 
 made all the mystery yourself, my dear aunt. 
 Here we have a letter which was given to Evans to 
 post. He mislays it. Eventually, through a series 
 of somewhat remarkable circumstances, it turns up. 
 
240 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 It is the last thing on his mind when he knows 
 himself to be dying, and he asks Bernard to post it 
 for him. It seems a very simple story to me." 
 
 " Does it indeed ? " said Mrs. Massingham with 
 obvious patronage. " Then perhaps you will ex- 
 plain to me why Evans should steal the key ; why 
 he should come down in the middle of the night to 
 look for the letter ; why, directly he found it, he 
 should clutch at it and thrust it into his pocket, and 
 why, above all, I was not to know about it. It is 
 very far from simple, my dear Montague, and I am 
 surprised at your stupidity in saying so. But I can 
 quite understand your attitude. Mrs. Burmester is 
 a friend of yours, and you, very naturally, are trying 
 to shield her." 
 
 Monty folded his arms, and faced his aunt. 
 
 " From what ? " he asked quietly. " Do I under- 
 stand you are accusing her of anything ? " 
 
 " Certainly I am not," repHed Mrs. Massingham, 
 hedging with alacrity. " I have no evidence up to 
 the present to warrant my doing any such thing. I 
 merely say how extremely strange it is that she 
 should be mixed up in my husband's affairs ; a 
 woman whom I scarcely know. There is an air of 
 mystery about the whole thing ; you cannot deny 
 it." 
 
 Monty rose, and stood on the hearth-rug with his 
 back to the fire. 
 
 " My dear aunt," he said firmly, " you are 
 making a mountain out of a molehill. If the letter 
 had been for anyone whom you could reasonably 
 suspect of an intrigue with my uncle, then, although 
 I can't admit that I like your method of getting the 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 241 
 
 information, I should have advised you to follow the 
 matter up, and set your mind at rest. But, as it is, 
 your suspicions are utterly ridiculous. Mrs. Bur- 
 mester was interested in so many undertakings 
 connected with the war that there is nothing in the 
 least remarkable in my uncle having written to her. 
 Have you sent on the letter yet ? " 
 
 " No," said Mrs Massingham, " I have not. I 
 feel very far from satisfied about it. I may be 
 wrong, of course — I hope I am — but my intuition 
 tells me that there is more in this than meets the eye. 
 However," she concluded somewhat abruptly, *' that 
 is a matter for me to decide, is it not ? If I had 
 known that Mrs. Burmester was to be implicated, I 
 should not have telephoned for you to come and 
 assist me with your advice." 
 
 Monty looked keenly at her. 
 
 *' What, exactly, is in your mind ? " he asked 
 curiously. " I should like to know your point." 
 
 Mrs. Massingham's eye distinctly wavered under 
 his searching glance. 
 
 " I do not want you to misunderstand me," she 
 began with something less than her usual assurance. 
 " It is not that I have the faintest desire to know 
 what is in the letter. As you say, it is quite pro- 
 bably merely a note, over some trifling matter, 
 which is scarcely worth while sending on, since it has 
 been so long delayed." 
 
 " Oh, I think I should send it on," said Monty 
 quietly. 
 
 " Possibly I may do so," replied his aunt with 
 growing composure. " At any rate I shall be able 
 to decide that when I have read it." 
 
242 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 Monty's eyes blazed into a sudden flame. 
 
 " I knew you meant to read it," he said curtly. 
 "It is quite impossible. It would be a most 
 dishonourable thing to open it." 
 
 *' I am the best judge of my own actions," replied 
 his aunt, with dignity. " I am not aware that I 
 have asked you for your opinion." 
 
 " Nevertheless, I give it to you," said Monty 
 sternly. " I will not, directly or indirectly, be a 
 party to what you propose to do. And further 
 than that," he added incisively, " I shall do every- 
 thing in my power to see that the letter is sent intact 
 to the person to whom my uncle addressed it." 
 
 " You will kindly mind your own business," 
 snapped Aunt Margaret with some heat. 
 
 " You have made it my business by asking my 
 advice," he replied firmly. " And having taken the 
 matter up, I shall not let it rest until I am satisfied. 
 I have already interviewed Bernard for you, and 
 been told, very properly, to go to blazes for my 
 interference. I am certainly not going to put 
 myself in an equally false position with regard to 
 Mrs. Burmester." 
 
 " You may please yourself what position you are 
 in with regard to Mrs. Burmester," said Mrs. 
 Massingham. *' That does not concern me in the 
 very least. A woman who allows herself to be 
 mixed up in an underhand affair such as this, with 
 a married man, is deserving of little sympathy, and 
 will certainly get none from me. I shall open the 
 letter* and use my own discretion whether or not I 
 forward it to her. That is my last word on the 
 subject." 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 243 
 
 She arose with dignity and swept impressively 
 towards the door. Monty made one last and 
 desperate effort to save the situation. 
 
 '* Before you go," he said quietly, " I should like 
 to say just one thing." 
 
 " Say it, by all means," returned his aunt, 
 pausing to listen with an air of cold condescension. 
 
 " I was going to suggest," he continued smoothly, 
 " that it would be a good idea to send Mrs. Burmester 
 a copy of the letter, altering any part of it which did 
 not meet with your approval. You are rather good 
 at that sort of thing, I believe." 
 
 A look of something that was almost appre- 
 hension passed over Mrs. Massingham's face. His 
 tone warned her that they were on dangerous 
 ground. 
 
 " What do you mean by such an insinuation ? " 
 she demanded haughtily. 
 
 " You don't understand me ? " asked Captain 
 Drake pleasantly. " I was referring to that bogus 
 copy of the letter Barnes wrote you, which you sent 
 round for our edification." 
 
 Mrs. Massingham wilted. No other word fully 
 describes the dwindling process which took place in 
 her appearance. But she had still sufficient con- 
 fidence in herself to hide her discomfiture. 
 
 " That is a matter which concerns myself 
 only," she said, with a courageous attempt at 
 bravado. 
 
 " Quite," agreed Monty indifferently. " But not 
 one, I think, which you would care to have generally 
 known." 
 
 Mrs. Massingham drew herself up to her full 
 
244 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 height ; very terrible she was in her righteous 
 indignation. 
 
 " Are you threatening me, Montague ? " she 
 demanded with hauteur. 
 
 " Yes," said Monty simply. " That's the idea 
 exactly. It's a sort of blackmail. Give me that 
 letter to post, and I will hold my tongue about your 
 Httle goings-on." 
 
 " And if I refuse ? " asked Aunt Margaret, 
 unhappily aware that she was nearing the end of her 
 resources. 
 
 " If you refuse I shall take it upon myself to give 
 you away handsomely all round," he repHed affably. 
 
 There was a long pause ; the air was alive with 
 conflict. Then Mrs. Massingham drew a deep 
 breath. 
 
 " You were always a horrid child," she said, 
 bitterly reminiscent. 
 
 " All my instincts are low," admitted Monty with 
 equal candour. 
 
 *' I do not know what means you have taken to 
 spy upon me in this underhand manner," said his 
 aunt, " neither shall I deign to inquire. But since 
 you have done so, and you are ungenerous enough 
 to take advantage of your information in this 
 unmanly way, there is nothing else for it : we must 
 come to terms." 
 
 " Quite the best plan," agreed Monty, apparently 
 unmoved by his own depravity. " Give me the 
 letter, and we will say no more about it." 
 
 Mrs. Massingham faced him with severity. 
 
 " You have behaved very badly indeed, Mon- 
 tague," she said. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 245 
 
 " At any rate, I have prevented you from doing 
 so," he replied with a conciHatory smile. 
 
 " Your mother was right," she continued bitterly. 
 " You have the brains of the family." 
 
 " But I haven't got the letter," he suggested 
 gently. 
 
 With a gesture of annoyance she thrust her hand 
 into a fold of her bodice, and drew out the pernicious 
 missive. 
 
 " Take it," she said curtly, " and much good may 
 it do you. I shall call myself on Mrs. Burmester, 
 and ask her for a full explanation of it." 
 
 " That's rather a good scheme," said Captain 
 Drake, carefully stowing it away in his pocket-book. 
 " I wish we had thought of it before ; it would have 
 saved a lot of argument." 
 
 The gong for luncheon reverberated with an 
 unfamiUar and uncertain rhythm under Martha's 
 amateur touch ; and Mrs. Massingham sighed as it 
 fell upon her ear. 
 
 " I almost think," she said in a chastened tone of 
 voice, " that after all I shall miss poor Evans a little." 
 
246 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 FOR the next few days Mrs. Massingham's 
 brain worked incessantly to and fro like a 
 well-oiled shuttle in a machine, planning, 
 scheming how best she might carry out her resolution 
 and inform herself of the contents of her husband's 
 letter to Mrs. Burmester. 
 
 It was not an easy matter to find a suitable excuse 
 for calling on a lady whom she knew so slightly, for 
 the purpose of demanding an inquiry into her 
 correspondence. Such a proceeding must be ne- 
 gotiated with extreme tact and wariness unless 
 she were to be branded as a vulgar and inquisitive 
 woman. 
 
 The purity of her motives, unquestioned in her 
 own mind, would perhaps not be so obvious to an 
 unprejudiced outsider, and she had no intention of 
 giving Mrs. Burmester an opportunity to administer 
 a snub, or to adopt an attitude of superiority which 
 she felt to be her own prerogative. 
 
 She told herself that there was no immediate 
 hurry ; an unseemly haste might indicate an anxiety 
 which she did not propose to admit. There was 
 also the funeral of poor old Evans to be considered. 
 It is hardly necessary to say that, in such a con- 
 ventional household, his death had raised him to a 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 247 
 
 position of esteem which in his Hfetime he had 
 never enjoyed. As a corpse he was greatly 
 respected. 
 
 Amongst his belongings, certain instructions and 
 an address in a remote Dorsetshire village had been 
 discovered ; and a telegram had thereupon been 
 dispatched to what were presumably his relations. 
 It might have been expected — it was certainly hoped 
 — that at last the mystery of his private environment 
 would be revealed ; but Evans was secretive to the 
 end, and his relations, if such they were, appeared 
 to share his peculiarity. A reply had been received 
 asking that Mr. Evans's body might be delivered to 
 a reliable undertaker, and forwarded by rail to the 
 above address. Whatever money was due would be 
 forthcoming ; and the writer begged to remain dear 
 madam's respectful servant, Sarah Evans. 
 
 Whether it was wife, sister, aunt or cousin on 
 whom the last sad duties devolved never transpired. 
 Evans vanished into the obscurity in which he had 
 chosen to Hve ; and Mrs. Massingham wrote to a 
 registry office for a smart young parlour-maid to take 
 his place. 
 
 Bernard returned to his soldiering ; Martha 
 plunged headlong into the spring cleaning ; and 
 Lovie and her aunt relapsed into their usual routine, 
 in so far as the chaotic condition of the house would 
 permit them. 
 
 But they were both feeling somewhat unsettled 
 after their recent experiences, and it was difficult 
 to take up the threads of their peaceful life again. 
 The house, moreover, was so extremely uncomfort- 
 able that at last Mrs. Massingham, falling in with a 
 
248 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 suggestion from Lovie, decided that a little change 
 of air would do them both good. 
 
 It was therefore arranged that for a week or ten 
 days Martha should be left to wrestle alone with the 
 annual upheaval, a proposition which she accepted 
 with unconcealed approval ; and Mrs. Massingham 
 and her niece began to consider the question of 
 where to go. 
 
 " We must not be far away from London," said 
 Lovie, " because Bernard might get leave again, and 
 he would want to join us." 
 
 " I have thought of that," said Aunt Margaret. 
 *' Of course, there is always Brighton. The hotels 
 there are quite comfortable." 
 
 " It would be rather nice to try a new place, do»'t 
 you think ? " suggested Lovie. " Mrs. Burton- 
 Smith was telling me the other day about Westcliff ; 
 she says it is so warm and sunny there in the spring. 
 They always go there." 
 
 " I never heard of anyone else doing so," said 
 Aunt Margaret without enthusiasm. " Near South- 
 end, is it not ? " 
 
 " Yes, but quite different, I believe," replied 
 Lovie. " And only an hour from town. Bernard 
 could motor there as easily as he could come here." 
 
 " If you wish to go there I have no objection to 
 doing so," said Mrs. Massingham. " The fact that 
 the Burton-Smiths like it prejudices me against it ; 
 but I do not suppose they will be there at this time 
 of the year." 
 
 " I should think not," said Lovie. *' They can 
 only go when he has a holiday." 
 
 " He is a man for whom I have the most intense 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 249 
 
 aversion," said Aunt Margaret, " and why Marion, 
 who after all was a Neville-Ross, should have taken 
 it into her head to marry him, I do not know. How- 
 ever, as you say, they will probably not be there, 
 and it is near town. We will go to Westcliff." 
 
 So it was decided. But not before Mrs. Massing- 
 ham had ascertained by devious means that Sybil 
 Burmester had gone on a visit to some friends and 
 was not expected back in her fiat for a few days. 
 Nothing therefore could be done in that direction 
 for the time being ; and they began to make pre- 
 paration for their journey to the seaside. 
 
 Two large, well-made trunks were produced from 
 the box-room ; their coverings of brown holland 
 were removed ; and with these, two hat-boxes, two 
 hand-bags and a few odds and ends of such neces- 
 sities as travelling-rugs, cushions, canvas hold-alls, 
 etc., Lovie and her aunt set out one bright afternoon 
 for their change of air. 
 
 " I only hope that we are doing wisely in going 
 to an unknown and impossible place such as West- 
 cliff," said Mrs. Massingham, as, surrounded by most 
 of their luggage, they sped through the country in a 
 first-class carriage which a perspicacious guard had 
 secured to themselves. " It is, of course, intensely 
 common ; we must be prepared for that." 
 
 " Never mind," said Lovie cheerfully. ** The 
 sun won't be common ; and, as we particularly asked 
 for bedrooms facing the sea, we can sit there and 
 do ourselves good all day if we do not care about the 
 town." 
 
 " It is such a pity for them to have turned the best 
 hotel into a convalescent home for wounded soldiers : 
 
250 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 surely something less pretentious would have been 
 good enough for that," said Aunt Margaret. " But 
 one must not complain, and I should be the last 
 person to do so. I always feel so grateful to the 
 dear things for keeping the Germans out of England ; 
 although, as I often say, if we had not been an 
 island it would have been quite a different story. I 
 doubt very much whether we should have been so 
 safe." 
 
 " I suppose we have to thank the Navy for that," 
 suggested Lovie intelligently. 
 
 " Yes, indeed," admitted Aunt Margaret. '' I 
 must confess that I always prefer naval men to army 
 men ; there is less nonsense about them. I do not 
 say they are quite so gentlemanly in their manner, 
 but I think they are more sincere and less arrogant. 
 They would not, for instance, I feel sure, have 
 appropriated the best hotel for their wounded. 
 Army people are extremely selfish ; I have often 
 noticed it." 
 
 "I'm sure we shall be quite comfortable," said 
 Lovie, who felt an almost personal responsibility for 
 the Cliff Hotel, since it was at her suggestion that 
 they were taking up their quarters there. " The 
 Burton-Smiths would not have recommended it if it 
 had not been quite nice." 
 
 " Mr. Burton-Smith, I believe, has lived in the 
 colonies," said Mrs. Massingham. " Once people do 
 that, I notice that they lose a certain refinement ; 
 they are more easily satisfied. He is, of course, a 
 common man to begin with." 
 
 It was something of a disappointment to find that 
 the wide expanse of ocean which, according to the 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 251 
 
 hotel prospectus, afforded a pleasant and salubrious 
 spectacle from the Cliff Hotel, consisted mainly of 
 mud ; and both travellers gazed with dismay at the 
 sight which met their eyes on their arrival. The 
 tide had receded, leaving behind it a slimy, dark- 
 brown deposit which, one would imagine, could not 
 be considered either healthy or beautiful by the 
 most optimistic hotel proprietor who ever made the 
 best of his attractions. They had yet to learn, 
 however, that the mud, so revolting to new-comers, 
 was accredited with marvellous recuperative powers ; 
 and that, making a virtue of necessity, the in- 
 habitants of WestcHff worshipped it with an 
 enthusiasm worthy of a better cause. 
 
 However, as Lovie had prophesied, there was 
 nothing disappointing about the sunshine ; and they 
 might in time have learned to rejoice in the question- 
 able attractions of Thames mud, had not a worse 
 trial been sent them. 
 
 After tea they betook themselves for a httle 
 stroll along the Parade, sniffing up the ozone with 
 a certain diffidence, due to the appearance of the 
 slime from which it emanated, when, walking 
 towards them from the opposite direction, they 
 perceived the obnoxious Burton-Smith and his wife. 
 
 " Oh dear ! " cried Lovie in disappointed tones. 
 " How very tiresome ! Fancy their being here 
 now ! " 
 
 "It is most annoying," exclaimed Aunt Mar- 
 garet. " I shall merely bow. I refuse to stop and 
 speak to them." 
 
 But the Burton-Smiths took a very different view 
 of the chance encounter. They were delighted to 
 
252 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 see their rich relations, and surged towards them 
 with beaming eyes and lively expressions of 
 cordiality. 
 
 Mrs. Burton-Smith, she who had fallen from being 
 a Neville-Ross, was sensibly attired in a short skirt, 
 a golf jacket and a voluminous pale blue motor veil 
 — the wrong blue, of course. Her husband, who had 
 lost what caste he originally possessed in the colonies, 
 was in rough tweed of that particular variety which 
 aspires to be Harris, and is not. Obviously they 
 were bounders ; but such cheerful, ingenuous boun- 
 ders that there was no withstanding them. The 
 chilly expression with which Aunt Margaret greeted 
 them was put down to the credit of her superior 
 social position, and greatly added to the satisfaction 
 of Mrs. Burton-Smith. Her husband, less en- 
 lightened in such matters, denounced her in his own 
 mind as a sidey old geyser ; but this opinion he 
 wisely kept to himself for the time being. 
 
 It appeared that, in accordance with their custom, 
 they too were staying at the Qiff Hotel, and they 
 hailed with enthusiasm the prospect of a very 
 pleasant family party. Excuses were of no avail. 
 If Aunt Margaret — Marion Burton-Smith clung to 
 the relationship with all the tenacity of the socially 
 doubtful — was too run down to go for excursions, to 
 be shown the sights of the neighbourhood or even 
 to rise above monosyllabic conversation, she should 
 be cheered up. Marion would see to it that the 
 proprietor, who was an old friend, should pay her 
 every attention. Beaten eggs and milk, hot bottles, 
 a seat out of the draught : everything should be 
 provided. Mrs. Burton-Smith adopted both Lovie 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 253 
 
 and her aunt unreservedly and in spite of protest, 
 and they all walked back to their hotel together. 
 
 " We have a very nice man coming down for a 
 couple of days ; we expect him in time for dinner 
 to-night," she said. " George knew him in South 
 Africa. He's a little rough, but thoroughly kind- 
 hearted ; I'm sure you will like him." 
 
 " That will be very nice for you," said Lovie, who 
 rather liked Marion Burton-Smith, in spite of her 
 common husband. She appeared to be so entirely 
 happy and satisfied ; her jolly laugh seemed to make 
 all his little mistakes too trivial to bother about. 
 
 " Yes," chimed in George with enthusiasm. 
 " Cartwright is one of the best fellers I know : any 
 amount of oof and not a bit of side. I ran across 
 him in the city the other day. He's a major in the 
 army now ; quite a toff in his swagger get-up. I 
 hardly knew him." 
 
 Mrs. Massingham marched along in grim silence : 
 she was not to be beguiled into any show of cor- 
 diality. For many years she had kept the Burton- 
 Smiths in their proper place, and it was extremely 
 galling to her that she should inadvertently have 
 lowered herself to meet them on their own 
 plane. 
 
 On their arrival at the hotel she retired to her own 
 room, and did not appear again until dinner was in 
 full progress. Sweeping down the room to the table 
 of honour which, at the instigation of Mrs. Burton- 
 Smith, had been reserved for her, she was aware of a 
 tow-headed man who glanced critically at her with 
 his sapphire blue eyes ; but, beyond a frozen salu- 
 tation to her who had once been a Neville-Ross, she 
 
 R 
 
254 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 took no further notice of the party, and seated 
 herself deUberately with her back to them. 
 
 When dinner was over she was almost inaccessible. 
 But as it was impossible to ask Lovie to go to bed at 
 nine o'clock, and equally so to leave a young girl 
 alone in a pubHc drawing-room, she had perforce to 
 establish herself remotely in an arm-chair and rely 
 solely on an exclusive expression to keep off in- 
 truders. 
 
 Mrs. Burton-Smith, however, was determined to 
 do the honours of the hotel where she had spent so 
 many happy hours, and bore down upon her with 
 the two men in her train. There was no hope of 
 escaping them, and Mrs. Massingham bestowed a 
 frigid welcome on the stranger from South Africa ; 
 a handsome man, undoubtedly, but impossible. 
 
 " I think you know a great friend of mine," began 
 Major Cartwright, with his usual directness. 
 
 " Indeed," replied Mrs. Massingham incredu- 
 lously. 
 
 " Yes, I fancy I have heard Mrs. Burmester 
 mention your name once or twice," he proceeded, 
 cutting the end off a huge cigar. 
 
 It was part of the general laxity of the Cliff Hotel 
 that smoking was permitted all over the house. 
 
 Mrs. Massingham regarded him with a distinctly 
 more favourable eye. A friend of Mrs. Burmester's 
 might be extremely useful to her at the present 
 juncture. 
 
 " I hear Mrs. Burmester is out of town," she began 
 amiably. 
 
 " Yes," replied Cartwright. " She's run down to 
 Epsom in her new car." 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 255 
 
 " Her new car ! " repeated Mrs. Massingham. 
 " How nice. I did not know that she was intending 
 to buy a car." 
 
 " You haven't heard of her windfall then ? " he 
 went on unconsciously. " She and I had a little 
 deal together, and we came out of it rather well. 
 The first thing she must have was a car ; so I took her 
 along to a chap I know who had one he wanted to 
 sell, and between us we fixed it up. It's not a new 
 car, but it's as good as new ; I reckon she's got a 
 bargain." 
 
 " She is fortunate in having a business man to 
 advise her," said Mrs. Massingham affably. " Was 
 it some sort of speculation that you undertook for 
 her ? " 
 
 " Gold mines — the usual thing," said Major 
 Cartwright easily. " I invested a few hundreds for 
 her and she doubled it twice in less than a fortnight. 
 I'd like a deal like that every day of the week." 
 
 There were many questions which Mrs. Massing- 
 ham would like to have put to the stranger who was 
 on such familiar terms with Mrs. Burmester, but it 
 was not very polite to monopolise the conversation, 
 and she tactfully allowed it to become more general. 
 But she determined to take another opportunity of 
 making further inquiries about the lady, and to this 
 end permitted herself a cordiality which surprised 
 as much as it delighted the Burton-Smiths. 
 
 She listened with flattering interest while Major 
 Cartwright related his adventures in the wilds of 
 South Africa ; and, when bedtime arrived, was 
 pleased to remark that she had seldom spent a more 
 entertaining evening. Condescension could go no 
 
256 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 further. Even George had to admit that the old 
 girl was all right when she got off her perch. 
 
 But in the privacy of her own room, where, 
 because there was a fire, Lovie was brushing her hair 
 before retiring for the night, Aunt Margaret was not 
 quite so eulogistic. 
 
 " Most extraordinary people ! " she observed, as 
 she plaited her grey pigtail. 
 
 " I thought the new man was rather interesting," 
 said Lovie, with the easy enthusiasm of extreme 
 youth. 
 
 " Oh, quite," agreed her aunt. " A most original 
 person — but not a gentleman." 
 
 " No," said Lovie. " I am rather surprised at his 
 being such a friend of Mrs. Burmester, aren't 
 you ? " 
 
 " Nothing about Mrs. Burmester would surprise 
 me very much," said her aunt. " As for this motor- 
 car, it is the most absurd thing I have ever heard of. 
 A woman in her position ! " 
 
 "I always thought she was quite poor," went on 
 Lovie. *' Aunt Louisa speaks of her as though she 
 had very little money." 
 
 Mrs. Massingham pursed her Hps. There were 
 certain things which it was neither wise nor proper 
 to discuss with a young and innocent girl. 
 
 " I know for a fact that she has a very small 
 income," she said presently. *' Where the money 
 to speculate has come from, I should not like to say. 
 However, it does not do to be uncharitable ; although 
 I must admit that for a young woman of her type 
 to be surrounded night and day with a lot of men, 
 from nobody knows where, is certainly not what I 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 257 
 
 should wish for a member of my own family, how- 
 ever remotely connected. I do not, and never did, 
 approve of women speculating ; it is extremely 
 dangerous, especially in the hands of an un- 
 scrupulous man such as I take this colonial to be. 
 Mrs. Burmester might find herself in a very un- 
 pleasant position — if she is not there already. I 
 do not say she has done anything disgraceful — I 
 should be the last to judge by appearances only ; 
 but there is never smoke without fire, and a woman's 
 reputation is soon gone. It is very sad, poor thing, 
 because she is still quite young, and not bad looking, 
 in her own way." 
 
 '* Yes, but I always thought her rather adven- 
 turous looking," said Lovie. " I wonder what 
 Uncle wrote to her about. Perhaps we shall be 
 able to find out through Monty Drake." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Mrs. Massingham with deep signifi- 
 cance, " that I do not expect. She is one of those 
 women who can do just what they like with men. 
 Montague is entirely under her thumb, anyone can 
 see that. It would not surprise me very much to 
 hear that Bernard also, in a lesser degree, was under 
 her influence." 
 
 " Bernard ! " exclaimed Lovie. " But he has 
 never met her ! " 
 
 " So far as we know he has not," replied Mrs. 
 Massingham darkly. " But I may tell you that my 
 suspicions have been considerably aroused lately 
 with regard to Bernard. I hope that what I am 
 about to tell you, you will regard as strictly between 
 ourselves ? " 
 
 " Of course I shall," said Lovie, all agog to hear 
 
258 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 the news of her lover. " I always do. But I think 
 you are wrong about Bernard." 
 
 " I am not wrong," said Mrs. Massingham firmly. 
 '* He has admitted to me that there is a person in his 
 life of whom we know nothing ; some one whom he 
 meets in secret, and whose name, although I have 
 repeatedly asked him for it, he refuses to tell me." 
 
 Lovie began to feel distinctly uncomfortable, and 
 her colour rose a little. She could think of nothing 
 to say, since it seemed that every word she spoke 
 must be an untruth. 
 
 " I do not wonder that you are surprised," went 
 on her aunt calmly. 
 
 ** I should certainly be very much surprised if 
 Bernard were meeting Mrs. Burmester in secret," 
 she found courage to say. " I do not think you can 
 be right." 
 
 Mrs. Massingham shook her head profoundly. 
 
 ** That is yet to be proved," she said. " He 
 certainly showed an extraordinary anxiety to hide 
 your uncle's letter from me ; I have seldom known 
 him so obstinate and difficult to manage. 1 felt all 
 the time that some one else was behind him ; indeed 
 that has been my conviction ever since I learned 
 about these secret meetings." 
 
 " Was there more than one ? " asked Lovie 
 curiously. 
 
 " That I cannot tell you. I only know that for 
 some time past he has been in communication with 
 some woman or other ; some one whom his father 
 knew, but who is apparently not the sort of person 
 he could introduce to his mother." 
 
 Lovie winced a little at this thrust. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 259 
 
 " Perhaps she is quite nice," she faltered. " It 
 may be that Bernard is — is in love, and — and that 
 they wish to keep it to themselves." 
 
 " No nice girl would behave as this person has 
 done," said Mrs. Massingham with asperity. " She 
 is evidently a woman with no reputation to lose. 
 Everything points to Mrs. Burmester. I cannot 
 prove it, but in my own mind I am perfectly certain 
 that she is at the bottom of the whole affair." 
 
 " But do you think, then, that she is Grace ? " 
 ventured Lovie, deeply interested. 
 
 " She may be, or she may not," replied Mrs. 
 Massingham darkly. " That is what I intend to find 
 out." 
 
26o LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 WESTCLIFF was at its best when Lovie 
 looked out of her bedroom window on 
 the following morning. All the little 
 boats which had been propped up crookedly in the 
 mud on the previous afternoon were sailing merrily 
 on the face of the waters ; and the sun was dancing 
 on the wavelets as they lapped the shore. 
 
 Across in the distance, a blue line showed where 
 Sheerness guarded the mouth of the Thames ; and 
 lying off the end of the long pier, for which Southend 
 is famous, were four huge vessels, filled, so report 
 had it, with German prisoners who had been sent 
 there to keep them out of mischief. 
 
 The trees which shaded the parade were faintly 
 flushing green, and the bandstand glistened in the 
 morning sun in all the glory of its new white and 
 gold paint. All the common people were still in 
 bed : they had not yet appeared to desecrate what 
 nature, aided by the city councillors, had intended 
 to be a charming health resort. Lovie, as she hastily 
 dressed for an early walk before breakfast, felt her 
 young heart bounding with enthusiasm. 
 
 She had not gone very far along the parade when 
 she saw, coming towards her, the interesting 
 stranger of the previous evening. He was dressed 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 261 
 
 in light, well-cut tweeds, and presented a clean, 
 open-air appearance which was in keeping with the 
 spirit of the morning. 
 
 His sun-tanned face brightened into a friendly 
 smile as he asked permission to join her ; and they 
 walked along together, each vastly pleased to have 
 found so congenial a companion. 
 
 " It's strange I should run across you like this," 
 he said, when they had exhausted the more obvious 
 topics of conversation. " I've heard a good deal 
 about you in one way and another." 
 
 '* About me ? " asked Lovie in wonderment. 
 " But I have only just met Mrs. Burmester. I 
 hardly know her." 
 
 " It's a small world," commented Cartwright. 
 " Do you remember Grimaux, the Belgian chap who 
 cleared out and left you in such a hurry ? He's 
 staying with me now, at my hotel in town." 
 
 *' Is he really ! " exclaimed Lovie. ** Poor Mon- 
 sieur Grimaux ! Did Mrs. Burmester hand him 
 over to you ? " 
 
 '' No, I suggested it myself," replied Cartwright. 
 " I was interested in the chap." 
 
 " We didn't find him very interesting," smiled 
 Lovie. " His visit to us was hardly a success from 
 any point of view, I'm afraid." 
 
 ** He's not a chap I care about," continued 
 Cartwright. " But I took it into my head to keep 
 an eye on him. To tell you the truth, I had my 
 suspicions that he wasn't quite what he pretended 
 to be." 
 
 " We were not at all sure about him ourselves," 
 said Lovie. " There was evidently something wrong 
 
262 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 about him, because the police were making inquiries. 
 They thought he was a German spy." 
 
 " My idea exactly," said Cartwright. " But I've 
 watched him carefully for over a fortnight, and up 
 to the present it looks like time and money wasted. 
 I can't make up my mind whether he's the cutest 
 feller I've ever met, or the biggest fool." 
 
 " I expect Mrs. Burmester knows which he is," 
 said Lovie. " What does she say about him ? " 
 
 Major Cartwright smiled to himself. 
 
 " Mrs. Burmester isn't a lady to say all she 
 thinks," he replied guardedly. " However," he 
 added, " his leave is up on Saturday. I'm afraid 
 there isn't much chance of finding out anything now. 
 He's a slippery httle cuss, but I don't think he's 
 clever enough to do much harm." 
 
 They walked together to where the parade ends 
 and a Httle rustic footpath leads along the shore to 
 Leigh ; then turned and retraced their steps to the 
 hotel. 
 
 It was past nine o'clock when they arrived, their 
 faces glowing with health and exercise, and both 
 confessing to a prodigious appetite. Mr. and Mrs. 
 Burton-Smith were sunning themselves on the 
 veranda before the dining-room window ; but Aunt 
 Margaret was not yet down, and Lovie went up- 
 stairs to make herself tidy for breakfast. 
 
 " Hullo ! " cried George. " Been out for an 
 early constitutional ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Cartwright. " I looked out for 
 you, but seeing nobody I took myself for a stroll ; 
 then I met Miss Massingham and we trotted off 
 together." 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 263 
 
 ** No, me boy," said George, " you don't catch 
 this chicken gettin' up in the morning early to go for 
 walks. When I take a hoHday I beHeve in doing 
 the thing properly. No early breakfasts for 
 me!" 
 
 As he spoke, the hoot of a motor-horn caused 
 them all to turn their heads, and, looking up, they 
 saw that a smart little car containing two ladies and 
 a chauffeur had stopped before the entrance to the 
 hotel. 
 
 " By gad ! " exclaimed Cartwright, springing 
 suddenly to his feet. *' If that isn't Mrs. Burmester ! 
 Excuse me a minute ; I'll go and see if I can do 
 anything." 
 
 He ran down the steps, and a moment later was 
 standing with his hand on the door of her car, 
 ready to open it. 
 
 Mrs. Burmester was equally surprised to see a 
 friend. She waved a greeting to him, and, followed 
 by Mrs. Oliver, descended to the ground. 
 
 " Well I never ! " she exclaimed genially. " Fancy 
 you ! " 
 
 " I've come down with friends for a couple of 
 nights," said Cartwright. " And you ? I heard 
 you were out of town, but certainly did not expect 
 to find you here." 
 
 " Actually," said Sybil, "I'm not here. Mrs. 
 Oliver and I are staying with her people at Shoe- 
 buryness. We took it into our heads to motor over 
 here for breakfast ; it is so nice while the air is fresh 
 and the roads clear." 
 
 Elsie and Cartwright had already exchanged 
 greetings. 
 
264 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 " And how's the car behaving itself ? " he 
 inquired. 
 
 " Oh, splendidly," said Mrs. Burmester with 
 enthusiasm. " It's a pet of a car, a perfect 
 duck." 
 
 " I've only just come in myself," he said. " I 
 went for a walk with Miss Massingham ; she and her 
 aunt are here too." 
 
 Mrs. Burmester's face clouded. 
 
 ** Oh, are they ? " she remarked drily. " West- 
 cliff seems very popular just now." She turned 
 quickly to Elsie Oliver. " I think we must rush in 
 and get some breakfast," she said. " We ought not 
 to stay long if we are to get back in time to see Joe 
 before he goes." 
 
 After a word to the chauffeur, the two ladies 
 entered the hotel, followed by Cartwright and, at a 
 little distance, by Mrs. Burton-Smith, who had a 
 predilection for nice motor-cars and an insatiable 
 curiosity about the owners of them. 
 
 But Cartwright, entirely oblivious of what was 
 expected of him, conducted his new friends into the 
 dining-room ; and after delivering them into the 
 hands of a waiter returned to join his own party. 
 
 " Elsie, I don't want to see the Massinghams," 
 said Sybil, hastily beginning to butter a roll which 
 was the only form of nourishment on the table. 
 " Let us gobble down our food and get off before 
 they come down." 
 
 " All right," said Elsie amiably. " But why ? 
 Have you had a row with her ? " 
 
 " No, not exactly — in fact not at all," repHed 
 Sybil. " But do you see, there's been a Httle 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 265 
 
 bother, and it's quite likely there may be some more 
 — if you know what I mean." 
 
 " I don't in the least," said Elsie, laughing. 
 
 " No, darling, I know you don't," said Sybil. 
 " I expect you think me rather mad. Some day I 
 will tell you all about it. Here's the fish. Do gulp 
 it down, won't you ? " 
 
 Elsie professed herself ready to be as obliging as 
 possible, but proceeded to pick daintily at morsels 
 on her plate. 
 
 " May I eat it slowly if I don't have anything 
 more ? " she asked plaintively. " To choke in a 
 public restaurant has always been the one dread of 
 my life." 
 
 " Would you rather have eggs, or something ? " 
 asked Sybil anxiously. 
 
 " My dear thing, I am perfectly willing to go 
 without any at all if you are in such a frantic hurry 
 to be off. Let us go somewhere else." 
 
 " No, never mind," said Sybil. " I daresay they 
 will be late coming down. Not that it really matters 
 much, but it might be rather awkward, because — 
 well, you see, I don't know exactly where I am." 
 
 " Trust me," said Elsie calmly. " I will see you 
 through it whatever it is. This fish is rather nice ; 
 and there are no bones in it. I think after all I 
 will have an egg as well." 
 
 At last the meal was finished in safety. Mrs. 
 Massingham had not appeared. Fate was evidently 
 in a propitious mood, and Mrs. Burmester paid her 
 bill and prepared to leave the hotel. But, un- 
 happily, while they were fastening their veils in the 
 outer hall, waiting for the chauffeur, who was regaling 
 
266 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 himself in another part of the building, the enemy 
 hove in sight. Mrs. Massingham was seen descend- 
 ing the stairs with her usual dignity, followed 
 sedately by her niece. 
 
 It was the work of a moment for her to recognise 
 the profile which Mrs. Burmester hopefully pre- 
 sented to her, and she strode across the hall with 
 extended hands. A more cordial person than 
 Aunt Margaret at that moment would have been 
 hard to find. 
 
 '' How do you do ! " she cried. " What a most 
 extraordinary coincidence. I had no idea that you 
 patronised Westcliff." 
 
 " Oh, h' are you ? " responded Mrs. Burmester, in 
 a lukewarm tone of voice. " You know Mrs. 
 Oliver, don't you ? I am staying with her at 
 Shoeburyness." 
 
 Elsie smiled through her chiffons. 
 
 " Sybil was doing too much in town and I dragged 
 her away for a rest," she said. " An early morning 
 spin in her new car is part of the prescription." 
 
 " Very nice, Fm sure," replied Aunt Margaret, 
 wondering how she was going to introduce the 
 subject nearest her heart. 
 
 Almost as though she had read her thoughts, 
 Mrs. Burmester hastily held out a gloved hand. 
 
 " I do wish we could have stayed a Httle longer, 
 and seen something of you," she said sweetly. " I 
 fear we must really fly. We have an appointment 
 at eleven." 
 
 " Oh, but must you go ? " cried Aunt Margaret. 
 " I did so want to speak to you. I telephoned to your 
 flat before leaving home, but you had gone away." 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 267 
 
 " I'm so sorry," said Sybil regretfully. " Do let 
 us arrange some day on our return. I should so 
 much like to see you again. Good-bye. ' ' 
 
 There was nothing for it but a plunge, and Mrs. 
 Massingham dived, head foremost. 
 
 " Did you receive a letter that was sent you a few 
 days ago ? " she asked. 
 
 " A letter ? " repeated Mrs. Burmester vaguely. 
 " From whom ? " 
 
 '* Captain Drake posted it to you. It should have 
 been registered," said Mrs. Massingham, watching 
 her closely. 
 
 Sybil stared. 
 
 " I really forget," she said. " I often hear from 
 Monty Drake." 
 
 " It was not written by him, but he was asked to 
 forward it to you," pursued Mrs. Massingham 
 vigilantly. 
 
 Something in her tone warned Sybil that they 
 were on dangerous ground. 
 
 " None of my letters have been forwarded to me," 
 she replied readily. *' I have really been so over- 
 whelmed lately with them that I felt I must have a 
 rest. Are you ready, Elsie ? I am so sorry to 
 rush away like this. I do hope you will both have 
 a nice time here ; such a delightful place. Good- 
 bye." 
 
 With whirlings of chiffon and waving of hands she 
 was gone, leaving Aunt Margaret a quivering mass of 
 indignation in the hall behind her. The car was 
 vibrating with equal impatience to be off ; and, 
 almost as its owner took her seat, it leapt forward 
 and bore her swiftly out of sight. 
 
268 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 Mrs. Massingham turned to her niece ; her eye 
 was steely and maUgnant. 
 
 " You see ! " she said significantly. " The woman 
 even denies having had the letter. I am perfectly 
 certain that Montague would post it on Sunday, or 
 Monday at the latest. To-day is Thursday. Noth- 
 ing will convince me that it has not been forwarded 
 to her. A most deceitful and dangerous person. 
 My instincts were not wrong." 
 
 It was in vain that Mrs. Burton-Smith tried to 
 make up a family party to visit the old church at 
 Leigh that afternoon ; quite useless to argue that 
 by going there and back in the tram there would be 
 no necessity for those who disliked exercise to walk 
 more than a few yards. Aunt Margaret was 
 obdurate. She would not go. Letters had to be 
 written, and she intended to stay at home and write 
 them in time for the evening post. Lovie might go, 
 if it pleased her — it was quite obvious that it would 
 not please her aunt. Major Cartwright, however, 
 was very persuasive, and the discussion ended in the 
 departure of four cheery souls for an afternoon's 
 amusement. 
 
 Mrs. Massingham retired to the solitude of the 
 deserted drawing-room, and seated herself at the 
 absurdly inadequate Httle table which was suppUed 
 with the hotel stationery. As her pen scratched 
 over the paper a deep furrow formed between her 
 eyes, and her mouth was set in grim determination ; 
 it was evident that her whole heart was in her work. 
 
 First there was a letter to Monty Drake. That 
 was soon done. It consisted of a brief and not 
 particularly courteous inquiry as to where and when 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 269 
 
 he had posted that which was entrusted to him. 
 Whether he had registered it, as directed, and if so 
 why he had not sent her the counterfoil. In spite 
 of her peremptoriness, she remained his affec. aunt, 
 Margaret Massingham. 
 
 The second letter was not so easy. It took 
 longer to write, because a certain amount of circum- 
 locution was necessary to obscure the main point. 
 
 " My dear Louisa, 
 
 " We arrived here yesterday after a very 
 pleasant journey, but I am sorry to say that I do 
 not think I shall like the place. It is not restful, 
 and the hotel is far from comfortable, especially as 
 Marion Burton-Smith and her husband are staying 
 here. I am very sorry for the poor thing ; he seems 
 more impossible every time I see him, and she is 
 losing all her little refinements of manner, and 
 becoming as common as he is. I wish we had gone 
 to Brighton as I originally suggested. There is also 
 a friend of theirs, a Major Cartwright, although what 
 he is major of I do not know. Curiously enough, in 
 conversation last evening he mentioned that he 
 knew Mrs. Burmester. I understand that she has 
 come into some money, evidently quite a good deal, 
 for she has already bought a motor-car and is 
 touring about the countryside in it. She arrived 
 here to breakfast this morning, but I only saw her 
 for a moment as she left. This Major Cartwright 
 and she appear to be on most intimate terms ; of 
 course if she has money it will make a great difference 
 to her chances of marrying again, but he is not a 
 gentleman. I cannot think where her legacy has 
 
 s 
 
270 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 come from, certainly not from our side of the 
 family ; and I always understood that her mother's 
 people were not rich. When you write again I shall 
 be most interested to hear, for of course you will 
 know all about it. I am glad for her sake, but it 
 seems a pity she is spending it so fooUshly. I was 
 sorry not to see you before we left, there were 
 several things I rather wanted to speak to you 
 about ; but they will keep until my return, which I 
 expect will be in a few days. I shall certainly not 
 stay here if the Burton-Smiths are going to do so. 
 I came here for a rest and change, but it seems it is 
 not to be. If the Parade Hotel had not been full 
 of wounded soldiers we should have gone there and 
 escaped all this bother. How thankful I shall be 
 when this dreadful war is over ! 
 " With much love to you all, 
 
 ** Yours affec. 
 
 *' Margaret.'' 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 271 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 NOW Mrs. Burmester, as she glided swiftly 
 back to Shoeburyness in her perfect pet 
 of a car, was not such a happy woman as 
 she looked. Very far from it. A habit of smiling 
 through her difficulties, formed in the days when 
 her husband's jealousy had made her life more 
 exciting if less pleasant than it had lately become, 
 kept her eyes shining and her spirits outwardly 
 cheerful ; but within — she was obliged to admit it — 
 there was gloom. Things, as she had said to Elsie 
 Oliver, were, or might be, very awkward. 
 
 When she had told Mrs. Massingham that she had 
 not received a registered letter from Monty Drake 
 she had spoken nothing but the truth. It was still 
 in his pocket-book, where he had put it after having 
 wrested it from his aunt ; for he had learned over the 
 telephone of her absence from home, and had con- 
 sidered it advisable to delay posting it until he was 
 fully assured that it would reach her hands safely. 
 Nevertheless, such is the power of an uneasy 
 conscience — whether it is made so by actual wrong- 
 doing or by other people's suspicions of the same — 
 that she had felt distinctly apprehensive in the 
 presence of the lady who might possibly call her to 
 account for her behaviour. 
 There was something in Mrs. Massingham's 
 
272 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 censorious eye which made her nervous. Guilty 
 or not — and she found it very difficult to decide 
 which she was — she certainly felt horrid qualms at 
 the prospect of being involved in the sort of scandal 
 which might conceivably arise. The only con- 
 solation that she could lay to her soul was the 
 undoubted possession of her car. That, at least, 
 was pure satisfaction : for that she thanked her 
 stars and was prepared to bear whatever incon- 
 venience might be put upon her. It was worth it 
 all. 
 
 When on the following day she bade farewell to 
 her friends, it was almost with impatience that she 
 set out on the road to town. In a few hours, she 
 told herself, she would have opened the mysterious 
 letter and would be able to decide how to act for the 
 best in a situation which was rapidly becoming 
 intolerable. 
 
 But when she reached her Httle flat, tired and 
 dusty after her long journey, and hastily turned over 
 the mail lying on her writing-table, no registered 
 letter was there. There was nothing at all from 
 Monty Drake, and she threw them all down unread 
 with a gesture of irritation, and rang for tea to 
 restore her overwrought nerves. 
 
 She had been so confident of finding it there that 
 she had already begun to count on it as a solution of 
 her difficulties. It was very disappointing that it 
 had not arrived ; and she turned the whole matter 
 over in her mind, looking at it from every point of 
 view, and trying to decide what course she ought to 
 take. 
 
 It if were the letter of which Evans had spoken. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 273 
 
 how had it fallen into the hands of Mrs. Massingham ? 
 Even supposing that by an accident it had done so, 
 what was it now doing in the possession of Monty 
 Drake ? How much did he know ? Why had he 
 not written to her ? Why was he withholding it ? 
 These and a dozen other questions arose in her 
 mind, and she could find an answer to none of them. 
 
 At length, when several cups of tea had induced 
 a more placid frame of mind, and the fumes of a 
 cigarette floated sympathetically around her, she 
 came to a decision. No longer would she hover in 
 this miserable uncertainty. She determined to 
 confess the whole affair to the one person in the 
 world whose opinion of it mattered at all : Monty 
 Drake should hear every word, she would spare 
 herself nothing. He should know how she had 
 weakly, in a moment of sentiment, accepted money 
 without knowing whether she had any real right to it 
 or not ; how she had fallen into the net of tempta- 
 tion which Cartwright had unconsciously set for her 
 feet, and speculated with money which was perhaps 
 not hers to use ; and further, how,, in the feverish 
 excitement of her success, she had rushed off and 
 bought a car with her ill-gotten gains. 
 
 It would make an ugly story indeed, and poor 
 Sybil shivered at the thought of Monty's face when 
 he should hear it ; she felt herself a perfect monster 
 of deception and general depravity. But her resolve 
 did not waver for a moment. Whatever the result, 
 she would no longer sail under false pretences. 
 Her name should be clear before the world again, 
 and the mystery of Colonel Massingham's legacy 
 solved beyond all doubt. 
 
274 LOOKING FOR G RACE 
 
 It was a relief to think that her troubles were 
 nearly over ; and, as she crossed over to the tele- 
 phone and took up the receiver, she felt almost 
 light-hearted again, in spite of the dreaded interview 
 which was before her. 
 
 " Double-nought-four-nine, Woolwich, please." 
 
 There was a little buzzing noise in the distance ; 
 then a maid answered the call, and Sybil asked for 
 Captain Drake. 
 
 A tiny voice squeaked at the other end of the wire. 
 
 " Captain Drake left yesterday for the Front." 
 
 The words stunned her. She was speechless. 
 Mechanically she hung up the receiver in its place 
 and returned to her chair. But she could not sit 
 down. It seemed as though they had deprived her 
 of all voHtion, so that she could neither think nor act. 
 For one giddy moment the world stood still, and she 
 with it. Then it swept on and left her, high and 
 dry, as it were, with only that one thought beating 
 madly, insistently, in her brain : " Captain Drake 
 left yesterday for the Front ! Captain Drake left 
 yesterday for the Front ! " The very words them- 
 selves burned and stung her. They tore away the 
 flimsy pretence of indifference with which she had 
 tried to hide her real feelings from him, from herself, 
 even. They bit into her heart with an almost 
 physical pain. 
 
 After what seemed an eternity of mute suffering, 
 her mind began slowly to reassert itself ; and a new 
 poignancy was added to her distress as she realised 
 the part she had played in his going. 
 
 " I have failed him ! " she cried miserably. 
 " He must have wanted me — and I was not there. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 275 
 
 I have let him go to his death alone. Oh Monty ! 
 Monty ! " 
 
 She sank on to the sofa and buried her head in the 
 cushions. No tears came to soften her grief, but 
 her whole body shook with convulsive sobs. It was 
 indeed a bitter moment. 
 
 For a long time she lay there, caUing impotently 
 on his name, giving herself and all she was and had 
 to him, now that his need of her was past. It 
 seemed as though they had changed places ; she was 
 now the suppliant, and he had gone gloriously forth 
 to do his work, leaving her behind, as he had left 
 everything not directly essential to his purpose. 
 She realised in that passionate hour the pathetic 
 weakness of her womanhood, the real value of all 
 those pretty airs and graces on which she had set 
 such store ; and a desolate sense of humiliation 
 overwhelmed her. There was nothing that she 
 could do to help either herself or him, nothing but 
 to sit down and patiently wait until he was ready to 
 come back to her again. 
 
 She was learning the lesson which a great many of 
 us have had to learn, bitterly and with tears, in 
 these last sad months. The war has taught it with 
 a ruthless hand. It is much harder to be a woman 
 now than it was a year ago — and much nicer. 
 
 When the first shock of Monty's sudden departure 
 was over, Sybil, like the sensible little person she 
 was, pulled herself together again and set about to 
 make the best of her aching heart. She told herself 
 that many of her friends had returned safely from 
 the carnage across the water ; and that Monty, 
 
276 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 being a cautious and far-seeing soul, stood at least as 
 good a chance as anybody else. She telephoned to 
 his mother and learned that he had been given only 
 a few hours' notice before leaving England ; and 
 received a message which he had left for her saying 
 that he would write at the first opportunity. She 
 would like to have stayed at the telephone for the 
 rest of the day listening to the dear details of his 
 going, his packing, and his dehght at being at last 
 amongst the chosen. But Mrs. Drake could tell her 
 little except the bare fact that he had been ordered 
 to take a draft of his men to embark at Southampton. 
 Whether he were bound for the trenches or for some 
 remote continental port nobody could say ; he had 
 vanished, as so many of our brave men have 
 vanished, at the given word, their destiny and their 
 destination equally, and perhaps mercifully, hidden 
 from the ken of those who are left behind. 
 
 Having satisfied herself that there was no more 
 comfort to be got out of Mrs. Drake, Sybil bethought 
 herself of the matter which had brought her so 
 eagerly back to town. It seemed to have dwindled 
 almost into insignificance ; she felt that she did not 
 care in the least where the letter was or what was in 
 it. But it seemed a wise precaution to ring up 
 Evans, since she knew that his mistress was away, 
 and ask for such information as he might be able to 
 give her. 
 
 With what result we know. Evans was far beyond 
 the reach of the telephone bell. Mrs. Burmester 
 returned, bafHed again, to her chair by the fire, and 
 folded her hands on her lap with a gesture of tired 
 resignation which was quite new to her. She was 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 277 
 
 beginning to realise how much of her life had been 
 bound up in Monty, his comings and his goings. 
 Unconsciously he had woven himself into her being ; 
 and her heart yearned over him, and trembled at the 
 thought of the danger he had gone so joyously to 
 meet. 
 
 All the evening she sat there, until Daisy put her 
 head inside the doorway and announced that dinner 
 was on the table. 
 
 Even her cosy httle flat had lost its charm. She 
 rose languidly, and sauntered into the dining-room 
 without enthusiasm. There is no blank quite so 
 empty as that left by a lover who goes away without 
 saying good-bye. She resolved to begin a letter to 
 Monty directly after dinner, and, upheld by that 
 meagre consolation, endeavoured to do justice to the 
 nicely-cooked meal which Daisy had prepared for 
 her home-coming. 
 
 But when it was over there was other work afoot. 
 She had hardly finished her first cigarette when 
 Monsieur Grimaux was ushered into the room, 
 resplendent in a gorgeous new uniform which he 
 had succeeded in wresting from a reluctant Govern- 
 ment. He had called, so he explained, to make his 
 adieux, since on the morrow he was to rejoin his 
 corps at their base in Flanders. 
 
 Sybil eyed him with a new interest. Here was 
 another brave soul going into the fray ; and she 
 talked very kindly to him, watching with envy the 
 excitement in his face as he spoke of the work before 
 him. For the first time in her Hfe she longed to be a 
 man so that she too might buckle on a sword and 
 join the Great Adventure. She listened while he 
 
278 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 sang the praises of Major Cartwright, whom he did 
 not like at all, but respected exceedingly ; and when 
 all had been said, and he rose to take his departure, 
 permitted him to kiss her hand in gratitude for all 
 she had done for him. 
 
 Monsieur Grimaux looked curiously at her. 
 
 " You are sad, no ? " he asked, speaking to her in 
 her own language, his eyes searching her face with an 
 intuitive sympathy which is rarely given to English- 
 men. 
 
 " Yes," she admitted, " I am sad to-night. My 
 best friend has gone to fight. And now I lose 
 another." 
 
 The Httle Belgian stood before her, more of a man 
 than she had ever seen him. 
 
 " But no," he said kindly. " You must not be 
 sad. You are so brave." 
 
 ** It is hard to be brave when one must stay at 
 home and do nothing," said Sybil, her voice barely 
 under control. 
 
 " It is hard, yes ; it is a bad war," said Monsieur 
 Grimaux. " It is breaking the bodies of men and — 
 and the hearts of women, n'est-ce pas ? Mais, 
 courage ! You do your part, I do mine. We shall 
 meet again. Au re voir ! " 
 
 His eyes were moist as he left the room. 
 
 After he had gone Sybil went over to her writing- 
 table, and answered a few of the more urgent letters 
 which had accumulated during her short absence. 
 There was a good deal to be done, and for an hour 
 she worked steadily, her pen flying over the paper 
 in her large sprawling handwriting : she could get 
 fewer words on a page than most people. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 279 
 
 She was still busy when the door bell rang and the 
 now familiar voice of Major Cartwright was heard in 
 the hall. A moment later he entered the room, 
 followed closely by the httle man who had paid his 
 farewell call earlier in the evening. They both 
 looked very ill at ease, each after his own fashion : 
 Cartwright inclined to bluster, with his teeth showing 
 in a savage smile ; Monsieur Grimaux sulky and 
 aggrieved. It was quite obvious that something 
 was amiss. 
 
 *' Well, I've caught him at it again," began 
 Cartwright abruptly. " Fll take my oath there was 
 no mistake this time. He was flashing signals from 
 that window, so I went in and hauled him out of 
 it." 
 
 " You lie, monsieur," remarked Monsieur Grimaux 
 without emotion. 
 
 " Very well then," replied Cartwright. " Tell us 
 all about it. I thought I'd better bring him along 
 here first," he explained to Mrs. Burmester. " You 
 understand his lingo, I don't." 
 
 Sybil looked at her little hero reproachfully. 
 
 "Is it possible that it is you who have been 
 signalling from that window ? " she asked him in 
 French. " I do not want to believe it." 
 
 " I have not signalled," repHed the Belgian 
 morosely. "I am no German spy." 
 
 Major Cartwright was watching them both with 
 anxiety. 
 
 " Don't you let him take you in," he warned her. 
 " He's a sHppery Httle cove. I found out long ago 
 that he goes regularly to that flat ; but I didn't tell 
 you, because I wanted first to make sure what he was 
 
28o LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 up to. To-night I followed him as usual, and, after 
 staying here for a bit, he went over the road. The 
 light had been shining steadily all the time, and no 
 sooner did he enter the house than it went out. A 
 few seconds later it was on again, and it kept on 
 going in and out for nearly an hour. It's not Morse 
 code, nor any other code that I ever heard of — Lord 
 knows what it is. Anyhow I don't like the look of it 
 a little bit, and I am determined not to lose sight of 
 him till the whole thing is cleared up." 
 
 Sybil looked very unhappy. 
 
 " I do not know what to think," she said, her fine 
 eyes fixed upon the obstinate little face before her. 
 " Will you not tell us what you were doing in that 
 room ? " 
 
 Monsieur Grimaux shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " Pourquoi ? " he replied indifferently. " C'est 
 mon affaire." 
 
 " But, do you see," began Sybil engagingly, 
 " you are placing us all in a very awkward position. 
 Major Cartwright is convinced that some one is 
 signalling from that window, and it is his duty to 
 report it to the police. For your own sake it will be 
 so much better if you can give us some explanation. 
 I do not believe that you have done anything wrong. 
 I cannot think that you are in the pay of the 
 Germans." 
 
 *' Tstch ! Burrur — r ! What madness ! " cried 
 Monsieur Grimaux, with a mirthless laugh. " Is it 
 then a crime in England that I kiss my sweetheart 
 in the dark ? Sacred Name of a Name, what sort of 
 a benighted fool is this one here ? " 
 
 Sybil could not repress a smile at his indignation 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 281 
 
 " But tell us," she said gently, '* why does the 
 light go in and out ? " 
 
 " I have told you," rephed Monsieur Grimaux 
 shortly. " I hke to kiss her in the dark. Voila ! 
 I put out the light." 
 
 He broke into a graceless laugh, and continued in 
 halting EngHsh for the benefit of Cartwright : 
 
 *' You see. She want the light. I don't want it. 
 We play a game — how do you call it ? — a flirt." 
 
 Cartwright was eyeing him with mistrustful 
 curiosity. 
 
 " You want to sit in the dark ? " he asked 
 incredulously. 
 
 " But yes," grinned Monsieur Grimaux. " Kissing 
 is more good so." 
 
 Suddenly he turned on his heel, and crossed 
 swiftly to the door. 
 
 " Try it yourself," he laughed, as he switched off 
 the electricity. " You will see. I am good judge ! " 
 
 Groping in the darkness, they heard the front door 
 slam behind him. 
 
282 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 A WEEK passed. Sybil had been working 
 every day from morning until night, and 
 was beginning to show traces of her 
 strenuous Hfe. There were dark marks under her 
 eyes, and her whole face wore an expression of 
 wistful eagerness which had not been there before 
 Monty went to the Front. She thought of Httle 
 else but him and his doings, picturing him buried in 
 the muddy trenches, leading his men in a wild 
 charge over ploughed fields, or lying in ambush in 
 some dark and swampy wood. It had been im- 
 possible to find out exactly where he had gone, but 
 from a man lately returned she had ascertained that 
 his draft had been sent to reinforce a battahon of his 
 regiment somewhere in the fighting Hne. There 
 could be Httle doubt that he had been under fire 
 within a couple of days of his arrival in France. 
 
 The hours, in spite of all there was to do, seemed 
 to drag interminably. Each day was a lifetime of 
 suspense ; and every night, when she went to bed, 
 it was to lie awake and wonder, and hope, and pray, 
 until from pure exhaustion she dropped off into an 
 uneasy sleep. 
 
 Cartwright had called one evening to say good-bye 
 before leaving by the Cape mail ; and they had 
 talked far into the night, strangely sympathetic 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 283 
 
 now that they had come to the parting of their 
 ways. 
 
 " I wonder if I'll ever see you again ? " he said, 
 looking at her with curious speculation in his 
 extraordinary eyes. 
 
 " Oh, I hope so," she replied. " I will give you 
 my banker's address and you will be able to find me 
 the next time you come to England." 
 
 " Thanks," said Cartwright ; " but I guess I 
 shan't trouble England much more. There's one 
 thing I've learned this trip, and I shan't forget it in 
 a hurry." 
 
 " What have you learnt ? " she asked him, 
 wondering at the sudden cloud which darkened his 
 face. 
 
 " Well — " he hesitated. " England isn't exactly 
 my racket, I can see that. In my own country 
 I'm a man, but over here — I'm the two ends of a 
 fool. I guess I'll stay where I belong." 
 
 Sybil smiled at him. 
 
 " I don't think you are a fool at all," she said 
 encouragingly. " If you lived here a little while 
 you would learn our ways and understand us 
 better." 
 
 Cartwright leaned eagerly forward. 
 
 " I know as well as you do that I'm not a fool," he 
 said almost roughly. " That's what makes me so 
 mad. It seems to me that you don't want brains in 
 England, nor manliness, nor any of the things I've 
 always believed in. Put a glass in your eye and 
 learn to sneer at everything, and you're all right 
 in England. A feller that can hand round the tea 
 prettily is thought more of than a chap who knows 
 
284 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 how to use his fists. It's no place for me ; nor for 
 you either, if I may say so. I'd Hke to have you in 
 Africa for a few years : you'd see things with a 
 different eye, I can tell you." 
 
 Sybil's smile deepened. 
 
 " I can't imagine myself living the sort of life you 
 lead," she said. " I'm afraid I'm too civilised." 
 
 " Not you, don't you believe it," said Cartwright 
 earnestly. " You've got the makings of a fine 
 woman in you, Mrs. Burmester. But — I guess it's 
 not my job to do it." 
 
 " No," said Sybil quietly. " I think not." 
 
 He looked keenly at her ; his eyes seemed to be 
 trying to read her inmost thoughts. 
 
 " Haven't you ever longed for freedom ? " he 
 asked her. "Don't you ever feel that you want to 
 get away from all this sham and convention ? 
 Sometimes, you know, in London, I feel just 
 stifled for want of fresh air. I hate breathing the 
 same air as other people ; we were never meant to 
 crowd together like this. My eyes ache because 
 I can never see more than a few yards away ; I 
 want to stretch 'em out over miles of veld and know 
 that as far as I can see there isn't another living soul. 
 It's a grand thing to be alone in the veld, to sleep out 
 in the open with nothing between you and the stars. 
 Don't you ever long for any of these things ? " he 
 asked wistfully. 
 
 "No, I never do," said Sybil. "Isn't it feeble 
 of me ? I should be dreadfully bored all alone in 
 the boundless veld ; and I think, if I had to spend a 
 night by myself under the stars, I should be found 
 dead in the morning." 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 285 
 
 " But you wouldn't be by yourself," ventured 
 Cartwright softly. " I should be with you." 
 
 Their eyes met for an instant, then she looked 
 slowly away from him. 
 
 " Dreams — dreams," she murmured under her 
 breath. 
 
 ** I know they are," he answered. " I told you I 
 was a fool in England." 
 
 So he went, and took his dreams with him, locked 
 up in his heart, which is the best place for such 
 things when a man has work to do. He joined the 
 brilliant and lawless mob which chased the Germans 
 over the sand dunes of Luderitzbuch ; and, keeping 
 an eye, as usual, on the main chance, cabled home 
 and bought diamond shares on the strength of what 
 he saw by the way. Having satisfied himself that 
 there was neither profit nor kudos to be gained in 
 German South-West Africa, he turned his attention 
 to the other side of the great continent, and shipped 
 for Uganda. And here we must leave him, looking 
 round f or a " tidy little farm." Knowing him as we 
 do, we may safely surmise that he found it. 
 
 And Sybil went on bravely with her work amongst 
 the wreckage which the tide of war had swept in 
 her path, doing her little mite, and helping where 
 she could ; till at last the day came when she felt 
 she had reached the utmost limit of her endurance. 
 
 There had been an ominous absence of news from 
 the Front in the papers, but the long casualty Hsts 
 told their own tale ; and the streams of wounded men 
 returning home by every train spoke eloquently of 
 what was taking place behind the veil of official silence. 
 
 T 
 
286 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 She wondered, as she sat in her chair by the fire 
 after a soHtary dinner, how much longer she would 
 be able to bear the suspense, the harrowing doubt 
 and uncertainty which was wearing her by night 
 and by day. She thought of the thousands of women 
 all over the world who were in exactly the same 
 plight as herself, and her heart grew so big with 
 suffering that she felt it must soon break. 
 
 And then, as so often happens when things are at 
 their very worst, deliverance came. Mrs. Drake 
 telephoned that a wire had been received from the 
 War Oihce saying that Monty was wounded, and on 
 his way home. At any other time the news would 
 have been a calamity ; but to Sybil that night, her 
 nerves fretted to strings with the anxiety of waiting, 
 it was a wondrous relief. He was wounded, but he 
 was coming home ! The blessedness of just knowing 
 loosened the tension, and tears rolled helplessly from 
 her eyes as she held the receiver to her ear. 
 
 It was then after eight o'clock, the War Ofifice 
 telegram had just been received, and there was not 
 time for Monty's mother to meet the train which was 
 expected at Victoria Station at 8.30. Would Sybil 
 go and meet it ? 
 
 She would. She tore into her bedroom and 
 scrambled into a coat and hat, dragged two odd 
 gloves from a drawer, and sped downstairs without 
 waiting to ring for the Hft. Along darkened Victoria 
 Street she hurried, a dim, fleeting shadow in a world 
 of ghosts, blessing the chance which had sent her 
 instead of another to welcome home her beloved. 
 
 Of course the train was late. She waited in the 
 huge echoing building and watched the crowds come 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 287 
 
 and go : the haggard faces of those who, like herself, 
 had received a summons ; careless youths swaggering 
 about in new uniforms ; ladies who came in by the 
 suburban trains, with their heads tied up in chiffon ; 
 and those others, who stood in sheltered comers with 
 crimson on their lips and carnations in their bosoms, 
 waiting — watching for their prey. 
 
 At last the train steamed slowly into the station, 
 and Sybil passed through the strictly guarded 
 barriers to where, behind the canvas, the bearers 
 were waiting for their burdens. Grey-clad army 
 nursing sisters, dark blue helpers, and khaki 
 orderHes, each marked with the Red Cross of 
 Mercy, went silently about their work ; and one 
 after one the wounded men were gentty lifted from 
 the carriages and carried, a long line of helpless 
 heroes, to where the ambulance cars stood 
 ready. 
 
 The yellow light of the huge arc lamps overhead 
 fell on their pale faces and — dear God, their eyes ! 
 Even in the excitement of getting home they just 
 stared in a desperate, appealing sort of way, sick 
 with the horror of all they had looked on. They 
 were the drift of war, broken weapons, and they knew 
 it. Even morphia, which dulled the agony of their 
 physical pain, could not spare them that. 
 
 Silence lay over the station like the sacred hush 
 in a cathedral. Even the crowd waiting curiously 
 behind the barriers was awed into reverence ; and 
 the only sounds to be heard were the occasional sob 
 of a woman, or a smothered exclamation from some 
 man not yet inured to the suffering of wounded men. 
 No higher tribute could have been paid to those 
 
288 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 who lay there : it was as though by their heroism 
 Victoria Station had become consecrated ground. 
 
 Sybil eagerly scanned each stretcher as it passed, 
 cold dread at her heart lest the journey should have 
 proved too much for Monty, as it obviously had for 
 several of the poor fellows, and only the empty frame 
 of him should return to her. One by one they 
 passed before her ; and when the last had been 
 carried away she turned and left the station, faint 
 with disappointment. Monty was not there. He 
 had been left behind. She shuddered to think of 
 what the reason might be, and hurried home to 
 break the news to his mother and consult with her 
 as to what was the best thing to be done about him. 
 Undoubtedly he had been wounded ; it was a 
 dreadful thought that he was perhaps at that very 
 moment lying unconscious, and dying in some 
 far-away hospital. 
 
 As she opened the door with her latch-key a whiff 
 of unfamiliar tobacco greeted her nostrils, and she 
 caught the sound of masculine voices in the drawing- 
 room. His voice ! She swept into the room, and 
 there, rising from her own chair, his head swathed 
 in bandages, his pipe in his mouth, was her own 
 Monty ! 
 
 With a glad, inarticulate cry she held out her 
 hands to him and, oblivious of Tom Oliver, who was 
 in possession of the hearth-rug, she drew him to her 
 and kissed him. 
 
 " You darling ! " she cried. " You have come 
 back ! You have come back ! How did I miss 
 you ? And Tom too ! " she turned to the other man 
 with happy tears in her eyes. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 289 
 
 " Quite an also ran," said Tom, laughing. " Do 
 you know where Elsie is ? " 
 
 " She's with your people," replied Sybil. " But 
 tell me, were you at Victoria ? I can't think how it 
 was I didn't see you." 
 
 " We were not there," said Monty. " Tom had 
 ninety-six hours' leave, and I managed to evade the 
 doctor and travel up in his train to Charing Cross. 
 I thought that possibly the War Office might have 
 wired, and that somebody would be at Victoria to 
 meet me, so we came along here first." 
 
 As he spoke, Sybil's eyes were fixed hungrily on 
 his face. There was little outward change in him, 
 and except for a few mud-stains on his clothes, and 
 his bandaged head, he showed nothing of what he 
 had been through during the past ten days. His 
 glance was as steady as ever, and his smile had just 
 the same hint of devilment which she had always 
 loved. Even his eyeglass was in its accustomed 
 place : it was difficult to realise that he had just been 
 taking part in one of the fiercest battles the world 
 has ever known. 
 
 " Are you much hurt ? " she asked him, presently. 
 
 " No, I don't think so," said Monty. " But my 
 head is buzzing like a motor. I'm told there is a 
 bullet in my skull." 
 
 '* That's the best of these wooden heads," 
 remarked Tom drily. " Anybody but Monty would 
 have had his brains blown out." 
 
 Sybil winced visibly. 
 
 " Oh, please ! " she implored. 
 
 "Don't you like it ? Sorry," laughed Tom. 
 " Well," he continued lightly, " I must leave you 
 
290 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 two young things. I only came along to hand him 
 over to some one who would keep an eye on him. I 
 must tell you that he's a bit worse than he looks. 
 You ought to get him off to bed and send for the 
 doctor." 
 
 " I think I had better go home," said Monty. 
 
 " No, indeed you won't," cried Sybil with decision. 
 " I am going to look after you. Your mother will 
 be wildly jealous of me, but she may come and stay 
 here too if she likes." 
 
 " That's a good scheme," said Tom, " although I 
 rather expect that he'll have to go into hospital for 
 a few days while they look for the little bit of 
 German property inside him. Are you quite sure 
 that Elsie is at Shoeburyness ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes, I know she is," replied Sybil. "I had a 
 letter from her this morning." 
 
 " Right-o ! Then I'm off," said Tom. " Good- 
 bye — and bless you, my children," he added with a 
 grin as he left the room. 
 
 Monty broke into a short, sudden laugh ; there was 
 more than a tinge of irony in it. 
 
 "A very bad guess," he called out. "Try 
 again." 
 
 There was no answer. The front door slammed, 
 and Sybil and he were left standing together before 
 the fire, neither seeking the eyes of the other now 
 that they were alone. 
 
 " Perhaps it — it wasn't such a very bad guess," 
 she said in a tone so low that he only just caught the 
 words. A tiny smile played about the corners of her 
 lips as she gazed contemplatively into the firelight. 
 
 Monty paused for a moment, then laid both his 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 291 
 
 hands heavily on her shoulders and turned her 
 towards him. 
 
 " Do you mean that ? " he asked huskily. " Are 
 you quite sure ? It's not because I was hit, is 
 it?" 
 
 She raised her face to him, and their eyes met in 
 one long look of perfect understanding. All the 
 barriers were down, they knew each other at last. 
 
 " It's because I love you," she whispered, close 
 to him. 
 
 Monty heaved a tremendous sigh of infinite 
 satisfaction. 
 
 " I knew you would," he breathed, as he folded 
 her in his arms. " You dear, dear thing, it had 
 to be." 
 
 A long time afterwards when he lay on the sofa, 
 a Httle tired and pale now that the excitement of his 
 home-coming was over, he suddenly bethought 
 himself of something. 
 
 " There's a certain letter," he began. 
 
 " I know," said Sybil. 
 
 " I'm sorry I couldn't send it. I kept it back a 
 day or two because you were away ; then, in the 
 hurry of getting off, I clean forgot all about the thing. 
 I would have sent it from France, but it's so precious 
 I thought the censor would never pass it." 
 
 Sybil smiled. *' I have a great deal to tell you, 
 but not to-night," she said. 
 
 " If you take my advice you will get to the bottom 
 of this Massingham palaver," said Monty. " Per- 
 sonally I'm getting rather bored with it." 
 
 " Quite," said Sybil. " So am I. I have written 
 
292 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 to Bernard asking him to call and talk it over with 
 me. He will be up to-morrow afternoon." 
 
 " Oh, good ! And have you asked his mother too ? " 
 
 " No, indeed," laughed Sybil. " Fm much too 
 frightened of Mrs. Massingham." 
 
 Monty looked at her with sudden speculation in 
 his eye. 
 
 " What have you done with that five thousand 
 pounds ? " he asked quietly. 
 
 Sybil positively beamed. 
 
 " How clever of you to find out ! " she cried. " It's 
 in the bank. But you mustn't ask any more 
 questions to-night, or perhaps you will get a tem- 
 perature when you hear all the frightful things I've 
 done." 
 
 " Just one then," he urged. " Has any one found 
 Grace yet ? " 
 
 Sybil hesitated a moment. 
 
 " Only myself," she said, " and I found her long 
 ago." 
 
 In the silence of her own room that night, when 
 Monty had gone to bed in the spare room, and his 
 mother was as comfortable as might be on the large 
 sofa in the dining-room, Sybil opened her letter. 
 Standing under the pink-shaded electric Hght with 
 her beautiful hair brushed and hanging over her 
 shoulders, her silken draperies trailing round her 
 feet, this is what she read : 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Burmester, 
 
 " When this reaches you, if it ever does so, I 
 shall have passed in my checks. I shall never know 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 293 
 
 how you receive it, but I hope that you will be able 
 to accept the enclosed notes, when you know the 
 conditions under which they are sent. 
 
 " To explain, I must go back to the time when you 
 were a tiny girl living with your mother in Scotland. 
 Do you remember her as she was then, I wonder, and 
 how she used to come and talk to a man who fished 
 in the river which ran through your grandfather's 
 grounds ? How they used to stroll together, you 
 toddling alongside, to where the woods thicken and 
 the pools were deeper, and sit for hours, talking in 
 low tones so as not to frighten away the fish ? That 
 is a long time ago. It is a strange and happy 
 thought that, when you read this, those two will have 
 left behind them the shackles which prevented their 
 union on earth, and will, please God, be free to love 
 each other at last. 
 
 " I should like to tell you a great deal of those 
 years which followed, just for the pleasure of going 
 over it all again ; but perhaps she would not wish it. 
 Saint and darling woman as she was, she always had 
 a dread that her love for me would overshadow your 
 life. It was for your sake that she could not face 
 the scandal there must have been if I had cut my 
 own family ties and married her as I would have 
 done. So I must pass over those years : the long 
 months when I never saw her nor heard from her, 
 and the brief, glorious weeks when she stayed with 
 her parents in Scotland and we met every day by the 
 stream, and come to the time when she took you 
 out to India, and died there within a few months of 
 your marriage. To me she has never died at all ; 
 she was always more like a dream than a real 
 
294 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 woman. I feel she is as much mine now as she ever 
 was. 
 
 " When you returned, and I discovered you in your 
 Httle flat, you will perhaps understand the memories 
 which awoke at the sight of you, so like her, yet 
 without her magic — I never knew whether it was 
 more pleasure or pain to watch you. 
 
 " But to come down to mundane matters. I 
 think from what you told me of your affairs that 
 perhaps you find it difficult to get along comfortably 
 on the money you have, and for her sake I do want 
 you to be happy. Will you therefore accept the 
 enclosed, and either buy with it something you want 
 or invest it, and add the interest to your income, just 
 as you think best. I believe she would be pleased 
 to know that I had been able to help you a little. If 
 I leave it to you in the ordinary way you can see 
 that questions will be asked, and so I am sending it 
 to you by the one man in the world whom I can trust 
 as I would trust myself. 
 
 " Good-bye, dear Httle Pigtails — have you for- 
 gotten that name ? Good luck to you. 
 
 " Wilfred Massingham." 
 
 When Sybil had finished reading her eyes were 
 moist. She laid the letter down on her dressing- 
 table, and a tender little smile hovered around her 
 lips. 
 
 " Poor little Mother," she said. " So that was 
 the secret you would never tell me. I wonder 
 whether I shall be able to keep it for you." 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 295 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 A WEEK later Mrs. Massingham was back in 
 her comfortable home at Blackheath. 
 The spring cleaning was over. All the 
 carpets had been taken up, beaten and laid down 
 again — with the tacks in the same places as before. 
 The paint was spotless. The summer curtains hung 
 crisply from their poles ; the winter ones were 
 folded away in camphor. All the furniture scin- 
 tillated with a dazzling lustre, and the linoleum in 
 the hall was shppery to the danger point. Martha 
 went about with the exhausted yet uplifted air of 
 one weary in well-doing ; and the new parlour-maid, 
 after a painful initiation into the ways of the house- 
 hold, was looking out for another situation. 
 
 "It is very pleasant to see everything so nice 
 and clean," said Mrs. Massingham, sniffing up the 
 odour of soap and turpentine with an appreciative 
 nose. " I do hope that the weather will be warm 
 enough for us to do without fires ; it seems such a 
 pity to light them when the chimneys have been 
 swept and the grates nicely polished. I am so glad 
 it is all finished before Bernard has leave again ; it 
 would have been awkward having him with the 
 house all upset, although I should not have let 
 that stand in the way if he had been able to 
 come." 
 
296 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 " He gets very little leave," said Lovie. " I do 
 wish he could come and see us oftener." 
 
 " Yes/' replied her aunt. " I think we must 
 borrow Uncle Percival's car and drive over to see 
 him one day this week. I was arranging it in my 
 own mind before I got up this morning. What 
 about Thursday ? Are we doing anything ? " 
 
 Lovie fluttered a little. The double Hfe that she 
 had been leading lately was getting sadly on her 
 nerves ; there seemed always to be something to 
 hide nowadays, and she was not cut out for intrigue. 
 
 "I'm afraid I have promised Eva to go up to town 
 on Thursday," she faltered. " She wrote, you 
 remember, asking me when I could go up and see 
 her new baby ; and I fixed Thursday. I had a 
 post card this morning saying she would expect me 
 to lunch." 
 
 All this was the truth, but it was not the whole 
 truth, nor was it even that part of it which would 
 have been most interesting to Mrs. Massingham. 
 The fact was that Bernard had written to her a few 
 days previously asking if it would be possible for her 
 to meet him in town on that day, and that in order 
 to make it so she had invited herself to lunch with 
 Eva and her new baby. He had told her that he 
 was obliged to go up on business, of sorts ; that he 
 needed her advice and possibly her help ; that he 
 was, moreover, dying to see her again, and that she 
 must, by hook or by crook, manage to escape the 
 vigilance of his mother's eye and be at Victoria 
 Station, main line, near the bookstall, at three 
 o'clock. 
 
 She therefore, under these circumstances, vaHantly 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 297 
 
 held her ground, and Friday was arranged as the 
 appointed day to visit Bernard at his camp in 
 Dar bridge Park. 
 
 On Thursday morning, then, she put on her 
 prettiest blouse, her best black satin coat and skirt 
 and her new hat, and sallied forth to see Eva's new 
 baby. 
 
 It was, of course, a darling baby — any baby on 
 that joyous day would have been sure of Lovie's 
 kisses. As she held it to her she thrilled at the 
 thought of the time when her own baby — and 
 Bernard's — would lie in her arms. It seemed, like 
 heaven, a long way off, and almost too good to be 
 true ; but it deepened the blue-grey of her eyes and 
 added a tenderness to her smile as she went to meet 
 him later in the afternoon. 
 
 At a quarter to three she was there, so was he ; 
 and as he strode through the crowd towards her she 
 rejoiced in the strength of him, in his tanned, 
 cheery face, and in the love-light shining from his 
 eyes for all the world to see. 
 
 " Good eggs ! " he remarked, with an utter 
 absence of sentiment. *' What a brick you are to 
 turn up. I call this a topping idea, don't you ? " 
 
 *' Rather ! " said Lovie. " What do we do 
 now? " 
 
 *' I want a few things at the Stores," he said, 
 " and after that I've got to pay a call. I couldn't 
 face it alone ; besides, it was such a jolly oppor- 
 tunity to see you." 
 
 " Pay a call ! " said Lovie. " It would be rather 
 stupid of us to go anywhere together. Aunt 
 Margaret would be sure to hear of it." 
 
298 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 " No, she won't," said Bernard. " This is some- 
 thing very dark. I heard the other day from Mrs. 
 Burmester. It appears she is in some sort of a fix 
 over that letter ; it hasn't turned up, and she says 
 it's very important and very private. Goodness 
 knows what it's all about, but I have promised to 
 call and see her this afternoon." 
 
 " But she won't want to see me too," demurred 
 Lovie. " You had much better go alone." 
 
 " But I've never met her," said Bernard. " I 
 wish I wasn't such an awful ass — I funk calls like 
 anything." 
 
 " I am sure you'll get on quite well with her," 
 Lovie told him. " She's very easy to talk to. I 
 should only be in the way. I will potter about the 
 Stores, and meet you at four o'clock in the tea-room. 
 You can tell me all about it afterwards." 
 
 So it was arranged. Bernard bought her a bunch 
 of violets and a large box of chocolates, and took 
 himself off to keep his appointment at Mrs. Bur- 
 mester' s fiat a little farther down the street. 
 
 He found her alone in the drawing-room, and she 
 rose at his entrance with a frank smile. 
 
 " It's so good of you to come all this way," she 
 began. " I know how busy you are." 
 
 Bernard assured her that he was not busy at all, 
 that it was no trouble, and further that in any case 
 he would have been up in town on that day, 
 stranded and with nothing to do at precisely that 
 hour of the afternoon. He felt that he had acquitted 
 himself with great credit. 
 
 " Have you heard that Monty Drake is back, 
 wounded ? " she asked him. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 299 
 
 No, he had not heard. Poor beggar, what rotten 
 luck ! 
 
 " He is staying here," she went on. " You must 
 see him presently. But first let us talk about this 
 tiresome letter. Do you mind telling me where you 
 found it ? " 
 
 " Evans had it in his pocket when he died," said 
 Bernard. " He asked me to give it to you." 
 
 " And did he tell you anything — anything about 
 it? " 
 
 " Only that he had promised my father to see 
 that you got it." 
 
 " Then I don't quite see — how did it get into 
 Monty Drake's hands ? " she asked curiously. 
 
 Bernard looked evasively at his boots. 
 
 " Monty happened to be there," he explained. 
 " He said he would post it to you, that's all." 
 
 ** How simple ! " said Sybil practically. " Of 
 course, if it were not for your mother there would 
 be no need to say any more about it. But Monty 
 tells me that she is uneasy about a sum of money 
 which is missing from your father's estate, and I 
 feel that it is only right of me to set her mind at rest 
 about it." 
 
 " Why, do you know where the money is ? " he 
 asked in surprise. 
 
 " Yes," she replied quietly. ** It is in my bank. 
 Your father left me five thousand pounds, for a 
 certain purpose." 
 
 " Oh, did he ? " said Bernard, staring at her. 
 " That's all right then," he added awkwardly, " so 
 long as we know where it is." 
 
 " But I wanted to tell you before telling your 
 
300 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 mother," went on Sybil quickly, " because — well, 
 first because I was not sure whether anything was 
 already known about it ; and secondly because I 
 want to avoid hurting her feelings if possible." 
 
 " I see," said Bernard doubtfully. " You think 
 she won't like your having it." 
 
 " But I want you to understand that it is not 
 exactly for me," explained Sybil with difficulty. 
 "It is a sort of — of offering from your father to — 
 to the cause he had so deeply at heart." 
 
 Bernard looked puzzled. 
 
 " You mean the war ? " he asked. 
 
 " He was very keen on the war, wasn't he ? " said 
 Mrs. Burmester, struggling to maintain the standard 
 of veracity which she had set herself. " He gave so 
 much in his Hfetime that I think it is not unnatural 
 he should wish to go on helping after his death. 
 And so," she continued hurriedly, " this five thousand 
 pounds is to go to wounded soldiers, to help them in 
 whatever way is necessary. I think it's such a nice 
 idea, don't you ? " 
 
 " Ripping ! " said Bernard. " I can quite see 
 that you are the best possible person to undertake a 
 job like that : it wants somebody who understands 
 the working of things. I don't think my mother will 
 feel in the least aggrieved about it when she knows 
 the facts." 
 
 ** I do hope not," said Mrs. Burmester. " I was 
 so afraid that she might feel that it ought to have 
 been left to her to carry out your father's wishes. It 
 is such a relief to me that you take a sensible view of 
 it all. Now we can put the letter in the fire and 
 think no more about it." 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 301 
 
 Without giving him time to argue the question 
 she crossed over to her writing-table, and taking the 
 much-debated document from a Uttle drawer flung 
 it to the flames. 
 
 Bernard watched it burn. 
 
 " So that's that," he said cheerfully. " Father 
 was such a quaint old bird, he always liked to keep 
 something up his sleeve. You're more like me : 
 you don't believe in secrecy." 
 
 " No, I hate it," she replied with strict truthful- 
 ness. " I will go and find out if Monty can see you ; 
 I told him you were coming this afternoon." 
 
 While she is away we also will slip out of the 
 room ; down in the lift we will go and across the 
 road to the little passage which leads from St. 
 James's Park Station into Victoria Street. Stepping 
 with firm, elastic tread over the stone pavement, 
 past the chalk pictures which decorate one side of it, 
 we shall find Mrs. Massingham, wending her way 
 to Westminster Mansions on a little mission of her 
 own. 
 
 After Lovie had left her house that morning, the 
 Drakes at Woolwich had telephoned her the news of 
 Monty's return, and of his instalment in Sybil 
 Burmester's flat for the time being. It was obvious 
 at once to her that a more suitable excuse for paying 
 her proposed call would never come her way, and, 
 with the promptitude which always commands 
 success, she seized her opportunity and set out to 
 welcome the wounded hero home from the war. 
 As she crossed the road, waiting at an island until 
 the traffic passed, her expression was almost 
 beatific : the prospect before her was such a very 
 
 u 
 
302 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 pleasing one. Not only would she learn from her 
 nephew whether or not he had posted the letter, but, 
 if her luck held, she would be able to cross-question 
 Mrs. Burmester in the presence of them all. It was 
 indeed a fortunate coincidence that all her birds 
 had run to the same covert. 
 
 When the door was opened to her ring, and she 
 followed Daisy into the drawing-room, it may be 
 imagined that her astonishment at seeing Bernard, 
 laughing with Mrs. Burmester, was almost equal to 
 his own consternation at being found there. She 
 stood on the threshold and fixed him with a stony 
 stare of maternal wrath. 
 
 " Indeed ! " she exclaimed. " So this is where 
 you " 
 
 " Hullo, mater ! " said Bernard in great haste, 
 fervently hoping that he did not look so big a fool as 
 he felt. 
 
 But Mrs. Burmester, who had been in many a 
 tight corner before, and therefore knew better how 
 to get out of them, rose to meet the occasion with the 
 seraphic smile of one whose conscience is perfectly 
 clear. 
 
 " This is too charming ! " she cried, with out- 
 stretched hands of welcome. " I did not expect a 
 visit from another member of your family to- 
 day." 
 
 Aunt Margaret stiffened visibly as she eyed her 
 deceitful son. 
 
 " That I can quite believe," she replied coldly. 
 
 Bernard stood up. A man can never sit still 
 when there is trouble ahead ; he must be on his feet 
 to meet it. 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 303 
 
 " I think I will tell my mother why I am here," he 
 said to Mrs. Burmester. 
 
 Sybil saw at once that there was something passing 
 between the two which she did not understand. On 
 the face of it there seemed to be no adequate reason 
 for Mrs. Massingham's displeasure, yet it was 
 obvious that she deeply resented her son's presence. 
 
 " But I feel it is my place to explain," she said 
 lightly. *' Do sit down, won't you ? " 
 
 Mrs. Massingham took the chair which Bernard 
 offered her, and Sybil began again. 
 
 " Your son and I have been talking about the 
 letter which I received only last night from his 
 father. I asked him to come and see me about it, 
 because, before Monty Drake came home, I was in 
 such a fearful quandary : it was so dreadful having 
 all that money and not knowing what to do with it. 
 I felt that every one must suspect me. I was most 
 unhappy." 
 
 Mrs. Massingham's face was like a stone wall. 
 
 "I do not understand what money you are 
 alluding to," she said stiffly. 
 
 ** How stupid of me ! " cried Sybil. " Of course 
 you do not know that your servant Evans came here 
 about three weeks ago and presented me with five 
 thousand pounds." 
 
 " Evans ! " exclaimed Mrs. Massingham incredu- 
 lously. " What a most extraordinary thing ! " 
 
 Her expression said very plainly that she was not 
 going to believe everything she was told. 
 
 " Yes. In notes," said Mrs. Burmester. " It 
 was most amazing. There was no letter — nothing ; 
 he said that Colonel Massingham had instructed him 
 
304 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 to give the parcel to me after his death. At first I 
 naturally refused to accept it ; but poor Evans was 
 so sure that there had been a letter, and begged so 
 hard that I would wait until he found it, that, at 
 last, thinking that such a large sum of money would 
 be safer with me than with him, I agreed to keep it 
 for the time being. What I went through, waiting 
 and wondering, I can't tell you. And then, as you 
 know, Evans died, the letter was found, and given 
 to Monty, who straightway went off to the Front 
 with it in his pocket. I gathered from what you 
 said at Westcliff that you had seen it, and Monty 
 had told me that you were worried about the 
 disappearance of the money ; so there was I ! You 
 can imagine my feelings. What you must be 
 thinking of me I did not know. At last I could 
 stand it no longer, and I wrote asking your son to 
 come and see me so that we might talk it over. No 
 sooner had I done that, than Monty came home and 
 gave me the letter, which, of course, explains every- 
 thing." 
 
 Mrs. Massingham had been listening to this long 
 recital with rapt attention, determined not to miss a 
 point ; but her expression indicated that she was 
 still far from satisfied. She was a much more able 
 adversary than her young and inexperienced son, and 
 Sybil watched her with a certain amount of anxiety. 
 
 *' Some explanation is certainly needed," she said. 
 " I should indeed be glad to know why my husband 
 thought fit to leave you so large a sum, and to do so 
 in such a mysterious manner." 
 
 " That is what I have just been explaining to Mr. 
 Massingham," said Sybil glibly. " It was for the 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 305 
 
 purpose of founding a fund for the relief of wounded 
 soldiers. He left it to me because he knew that I 
 was in touch with the right people and would carry 
 out his ideas as he wished ; we had so often talked 
 over — over that sort of thing." 
 
 Mrs. Massingham was very far from convinced. 
 
 ''If he wished to make a charitable bequest, 
 surely there was no need for all this secrecy," she 
 said severely. 
 
 Sybil looked as ingenuous as possible. 
 
 " But do you really think there has been any 
 secrecy ? " she asked sweetly. '' It seems to me that 
 it has all been a stupid muddle. The letter and the 
 money were left, as I understand, in a perfectly open 
 way in one of his drawers. He would naturally 
 expect you to find them there after his death. I 
 cannot help thinking that poor old Evans has been 
 extremely misguided in his zeal, although I am sure 
 the old man was anxious to do his best, and had no 
 idea of all the trouble he would cause." 
 
 Mrs. Massingham considered this. Her face was 
 certainly a Httle more yielding, and Mrs. Burmester 
 looked at her with rising hope. The barometer was 
 going up. 
 
 " Perhaps you are right," she admitted at length. 
 " Evans has given us a great deal of trouble with his 
 deceitful ways. He was never happy unless he was 
 hiding something : a very cunning nature, poor 
 thing ! I never trusted him from the first ; I had a 
 suspicion all along that he knew a great deal more 
 than he would say." 
 
 " All the same, he was a faithful old bird," said 
 Bernard. 
 
3o6 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 " Yes, and I was quite sorry for him at the 
 time," went on Mrs. Burmester. '' He seemed so 
 upset. I must admit that his manner rather 
 misled me. I felt that there was some extra- 
 ordinary mystery and I was afraid to ask you about 
 it in case I made mischief, if you know what I mean. 
 It was most unnerving. I am so thankful it is all 
 over." 
 
 "So am I, indeed," said Mrs. Massingham, 
 " There is only one point in my mind. I suppose 
 you have no objection to my reading my husband's 
 letter ; although, of course, I should not press it if 
 you do not care to show it to me." 
 
 Mrs. Burmester looked at Bernard in well- 
 assumed dismay. 
 
 ** Oh dear ! " she exclaimed. " I'm so dreadfully 
 sorry ; we have just put it in the fire. I ought to 
 have thought that perhaps you would like to read it. 
 How very careless of us ! " 
 
 " Did Bernard read it ? " asked Mrs. Massingham, 
 plunged in doubt again. 
 
 " No," replied Sybil regretfully. " He did not 
 ask to see it. Monty is the only person who has 
 read it beside myself. We talked it over together 
 this morning and he agreed with me that Colonel 
 Massingham' s wishes were perfectly plain. There 
 were no particulars or conditions. I was just to use 
 the money in any way I thought best — for the 
 cause." 
 
 " In that case, I have no more to say," remarked 
 Aunt Margaret. " I cannot help thinking that it is a 
 great pity to have made so much mystery over what 
 my husband evidently intended to be a perfectly 
 
LOOKING FOR GRACE 307 
 
 simple and straightforward matter ; but I blame 
 poor Evans for most of it, that is to say I should 
 blame him if he were alive ; as he is dead I do not 
 wish to criticise him. I am only too thankful that 
 matters are no worse." 
 
 She sighed, whether with rehef or with resignation 
 it was not easy to judge from her expression. 
 
 " It has certainly been a day of surprises," she 
 added with a gracious attempt to put matters on a 
 more friendly footing. " First Montague coming 
 home, and now all this." 
 
 " Yes," said Bernard, resolve in his eye, " and 
 I've got one more for you, dear old thing." 
 
 " Have you indeed? " replied his mother indul- 
 gently. He looked so tall and straight, such a man 
 as he stood before her, his eyes gleaming with 
 excitement and the indomitable joy of his youth. 
 " What is your next surprise ? " 
 
 " Oh, something very delightful," he laughed. 
 "It is waiting at the Stores, pining for its tea, I 
 expect, by this time. If Mrs. Burmester doesn't 
 mind I should hke to go and fetch it along." 
 
 It was a merry party that gathered round Monty's 
 bed that afternoon for tea. Mrs. Drake was there, 
 fussing devotedly over her invalid. Lovie and Ber- 
 nard sat close together and pretended to be very 
 abashed every time they met Mrs. Massingham's eye. 
 Sybil was in the highest spirits as she poured out the 
 tea ; all her old gaiety had returned, and life was 
 rosy again now that her Monty was home and all her 
 sins were forgiven. Even Aunt Margaret was more 
 genial than she had been for a very long time ; it 
 
3o8 LOOKING FOR GRACE 
 
 was so nice to feel that everything was comfortable 
 and friendly once more, and she beamed on them all 
 in turn. 
 
 Monty in his pink pyjamas looked very festive, 
 and most interesting with his head bandaged. 
 There was a quiet gladness in his red-brown eyes 
 which told Sybil a great deal more than his hps had 
 yet said to her. 
 
 " Well, here's luck to everybody ! " he said, 
 hfting his cup for a toast. " Bernard and Lovie ; 
 Sybil and myself; and" — he looked humorously 
 across at his aunt — " I don't think we ought to leave 
 out Grace." 
 
 Every one there excepting Bernard knew about 
 the phantom who had been the cause of all the 
 trouble ; and he looked from one to the other for 
 enlightenment. 
 
 " Who is Grace ? " he asked curiously. 
 
 " Grace ? " replied his mother. " I think she 
 must have been a dream of your dear father's." 
 
 " She is a lady we have all been looking for," said 
 Monty. 
 
 '* And he has found her," said Sybil. 
 
 But she did not say it aloud. Only Monty knew 
 why there was a sudden dimness in her bright eyes, 
 and he never told anybody. 
 
 THE END 
 
BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 Curing Christopher 
 
 A Novel. 
 
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BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
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