Mr. Pyecroft." Tense though the moment was to him, the young man
could not restrain his odd whimsical smile. "The Reverend Mr.
Pyecroft has taken an interest in me; like you he is trying to make
me a better man. He'll see that I get your message. Herbert E.
Pyecroft--P-y-e-c-r-o-f-t--remember his name. Here's a card of
the boarding-house at which he is staying." He thrust the bit of
pasteboard into her free hand. "Remember, dear, I really am your
husband."

With an outraged gesture she flung the card to the floor. "There'll be
no message!" Her voice was raised; she trembled in fierce humiliation,
and in scorn of him. "You ... my husband!"

"Yes, your husband!" he said firmly. "And I'm going to make you love
me!"

It was at just this moment that Mrs. De Peyster, ascending from her
scene with the reporters, was passing without, and it was these last
words that she overheard. And it was at just this moment that her
knock sounded upon the door.

"Quick, you mustn't be seen here!" breathed Miss Gardner. "The French
windows there, and out the back way through the stable!"

With a cat's silent swiftness he was at the windows, Miss Gardner
beside him. But in the back-yard stood William, the coachman, sunning
himself. That way was closed.

"Into the study," whispered Miss Gardner, pointing at a door, "and
watch your chance to get out!"