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The Head of the House of Coombe was not a title to be found in Burke or Debrett. It was a fine irony of the Head's own and having been accepted by his acquaintances was not infrequently used by them in their light moments in the same spirit. The peerage recorded him as a Marquis and added several lesser attendant titles.

Young Hopkins asked me to have a drink at the Hoffman this afternoon, and, while I was in there, Hexter, who managed the 'Silver King' Company the season I played Coombe, came in all rattled. 'Why this extravagant wrath? Hopkins asked, in his picturesque way.

I left Sir Henry behind, therefore, not without some prickings of conscience, and drove off upon my new quest. When I reached Coombe Tracey I told Perkins to put up the horses, and I made inquiries for the lady whom I had come to interrogate. I had no difficulty in finding her rooms, which were central and well appointed.

The flower picker bunched her flowers into a tight round knot which she surveyed with pride. "That step-mother of Esther's now," she said. "I don't hold much with her. Flighty, I call her. Delicate, too, if looks don't lie. Men are queer. The only thing queerer is women. What d'ye suppose a sensible middle-aged man like Doctor Coombe ever saw in that pretty doll?

As I set it down again, after having examined it, my heart leaped to see that beneath it there lay a sheet of paper with writing upon it. I raised it, and this was what I read, roughly scrawled in pencil: Dr. Watson has gone to Coombe Tracey. For a minute I stood there with the paper in my hands thinking out the meaning of this curt message.

Dear Leonard, I have often guessed what you would do. 'What have you guessed? 'Only what we used to plan, in the old times after you had been at Coombe, Leonard. 'Dear sister! And you would let me go! 'Our parting is near, any way, she said, her eye turning to the print from Ary Scheffer's St. Augustine and Monica.

And the moon had been part of their programme too. Both remembered at the same moment that, according to schedule, they were now supposed to be almost home, running down Coombe hill by moonlight. "This is much nicer," said Esther, comfortably. "But " he did not finish his sentence. Why disturb her? Besides it certainly was much nicer! The forgotten moon bore them no malice.

He did not look wicked. "I remain an outcast," remarked Coombe, as the door closed behind the little figure. "I detest an ill-mannered child," said Feather. "She ought to be slapped. We used to be slapped if we were rude." "She said Andrews would pinch her. Is pinching the customary discipline?" "It ought to be. She deserves it." Feather was quite out of temper. "But Andrews is too good to her.

Outside was the night stillness of the moor, inside the night stillness held within the thick walls of stone rooms and passages, in their hearts the stillness of something which yet waited unsaid. At last "Did Lord Coombe tell you who he was, Dowie?" "He said perhaps you would tell me yourself if you felt you'd like me to know. He said it was to be as you chose."

After the servant had gone away she stood still a moment or so. "Perhaps she is going to tell me now," she said to the empty room. Two aspects of her face rose before the Duchess as the girl entered the room where she waited for her with Lord Coombe. One was that which had met her glance when Mademoiselle Vallé had brought her charge on her first visit.