CHAPTER XXVII.
HUGH ROSSITER SPINS HIS YARN Speak to me as to thy thinkings, As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts The worst of words.
-- Othello.
The reward of one duty is the power to fulfil another.
-- GEORGE ELIOT.
Malcolm read the telegram twice.

Then he took up his time-table.

A quarter of an hour later he was in a hansom on his way to the station.
With all his impracticable fads and fancies, he was not one to let the grass grow under his feet.

It was quite early, barely noon, when he walked up the hill leading to the Manor House; nevertheless Mrs.
Godfrey was evidently on the watch for him.
"Good man," she said approvingly; "I knew you would not fail me;" and then she led him into the morning room, her own special sanctum, which opened into her husband's study.
Colonel Godfrey always called it his study, though it may be doubted if he ever studied anything but his Times, Spectator, and his three favourite authors, Thackeray, Dickens, and Kingsley; but his wife was a great reader, and there were few modern books that she could not discuss and criticise.
"And now, my dear lady, what is wrong ?" asked Malcolm.

He spoke with the coolness of the well-bred Englishman, who refuses to give himself away.