mystery. A brisk and sober woman of middle age, who had been with the family for nearly ten years, she looked nothing more or less than disapproving because this young person had presumed to keep Mrs. Enderby waiting for several minutes.

“Anyhow, I can’t ask her,” thought Lexy. “That’s the worst part of all this— I can’t ask anybody anything without breaking a promise to somebody else; and yet everybody ought to know everything!”

In miserable perplexity, she went upstairs to Mrs. Enderby’s sitting room. Only one thing was clear in her mind, and that was that she must be freed from her weak-minded promise not to mention Caroline’s absence.

“And that’s not going to be easy,” she reflected, “when I can’t explain to her. There’ll be a row. Well, I don’t care!”

She did care, however. She respected Mrs. Enderby, and in her secret heart she was a little afraid of her. She felt very young, very crude and blundering, in the presence of that masterful woman; and she doubted her own wisdom.

“But what can I do?” she thought. “He said he trusted me. I can’t tell her! No, first I’ll get her to let me off that promise, and I’ll go and tell that young man. Then I’ll make him let me off, and I’ll come and tell her. Golly, how I hate all this fool mystery!”

Mrs. Enderby was writing at her desk as Lexy entered the room. She glanced up, unsmiling.

“You are late,” she said. “I asked you to return in half an hour.”

“I’m sorry,” Lexy replied meekly.

“Very well! Now you will please to come with me.”

She rose, and Lexy followed her down the hall to Caroline’s room. Mrs. Enderby unlocked the door, and, when they had entered, locked the door on the inside.

“In fifteen minutes the car is coming,” she said. “I wish you to put on Caroline’s hat and coat and a veil, and leave the house with me.”

“You mean you want me to pretend I’m Caroline?” cried Lexy.

“I wish it to be thought that you are Caroline,” Mrs. Enderby corrected her. “Please waste no time. The car will be here—”

“Mrs. Enderby, I—I can’t do 

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