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Vanrenen picked him up in Bristol at 4 a.m. yesterday, my lord. In fact, the bearings got so hot at Symon's Yat that Simmonds chucked his job till Mr. Vanrenen sort of apologized." "Can you be specific, Dale? You are hard to follow." "Well, my lord, I could do with a drink.

She counted on Medenham being chained to Symon's Yat while Cynthia was there consequently she had heard something from Dale that rendered it eminently necessary that neither he nor Cynthia should be seen in Hereford on the Sunday.

"You can do me a better service than even what you propose," said I; and when he had asked its nature "Come with me to the house of one of my enemies, and testify how I have carried myself this day," I told him. "That will be the true service. For though he has sent me a gallant adversary for the first, the thought in Mr. Symon's mind is merely murder.

He was too dutiful a son, the Earl was too fair-minded a parent, that they should not be able to meet and discuss matters without heat. By noon they would have reached Symon's Yat; before lunch was ended the older man would have been Cynthia's most outspoken admirer.

"Ah, well," sighed the girl, "we shall have a nice long rest when we stop for tea at at what is the name of the place?" "Symon's Yat." Medenham's voice was husky. Truth to tell, he was rather beside himself. He had played for a high stake and had nearly won.

Straight from her hand to his, that letter went; straight from her heart to his, that letter spoke; and Symon's comfort in it, lies largely in the knowledge that she was alone when she wrote it, alone when she sealed it, and that none in this world, saving they two, will ever know exactly what the woman, whom he had loved so purely and served so faithfully, said to him in this letter.

"And it isn't," I exulted. "Nevertheless, it is what you are. It is Arthur Symon's poem, The Daughters of Herodias. Some day I shall read it to you, and you will answer. I know you will answer that you, too, have looked often upon the stars."

"And now you see how it is," he concluded, "and why, when you tell me your evidence is to be let in, I laugh aloud in your face." It was now my turn. I laid before him in brief Mr. Symon's threats and offers, and the whole incident of the bravo, with the subsequent scene at Prestongrange's. Of my first talk, according to promise, I said nothing, nor indeed was it necessary.

She felt that she must confide in someone, so she wrote a full account of events at Symon's Yat to her son. It was the worst possible thing she could have done. Unconsciously for she was now anxious to help instead of hindering Medenham's wooing some of the gall in her nature distilled itself into words. She dwelt on the river episode with all the sly rancor of the inveterate scandalmonger.

He'll be to lend them to be Symon's instruments; and the next thing we'll be hearing, James will have made his peace, or else he'll have escaped; and you'll be in Benbecula or Applecross." "Ye make a strong case," I admitted. "And what I want," he resumed, "is that you should disappear yourself ere they can get their hands upon ye.