Chapter 6

was telling me to lie quite still and hang on to her hand for all I was worth. 'You'll find it a great help,' she said. 'I know I did. And if you know any bad words, say them.' For all the pain, I couldn't help laughing. And then she told me how she'd broken her leg in the hunting field, and the vicar was the first to get to her, and how she hung on to him and made him feed her with bad language till help arrived. And, when I tried to say I was sorry, she said the butler deserved six months for not having the steps sanded, and asked me, if you and she tried to make me comfortable while I was your guest, if I'd try to forgive you...."

"That's the only possible way to look at it," said Valerie. "It's all our servants' fault, and we're only too thankful to be able----"

"You're very sweet," said Anne wistfully. "But to be saddled with me for six weeks----"

"Hush!" said Valerie, with a grave smile. "You promised not to talk like that."

Anne Alison sighed.

"It is unfortunate, though," she said. "I can't think what they'll do at The Shrubbery. If only Anthony hadn't just left.... You knew he'd gone, didn't you?"

Valerie shook her head.

"I knew he was going," she said.

"He left on Monday," said Anne. "We're all heart-broken. He was wonderful to work with, and nobody could help liking him. George is desperate about it. Being a man, you see.... Besides, they were a lot together. On the car, I mean. Off duty we never saw much of him. He liked being alone. I think I'm the only one he went for a walk with all the time he was there. And then Betty sent him. He'd never seen the view from The Beacon, so I took him. He was bored stiff, and we got soaked coming home, but he was very nice and polite about it. He always was. And now, I suppose----"

"The Beacon?" said Valerie faintly. "Where--where's The Beacon?"

"I don't know what its real name is," said Anne. "We always call it 'The Beacon.' You must know it. That very high place in Red King Walk, where the cliff goes sheer down...."

Valerie tried to speak, but no words would come. Something seemed to be gripping her by the throat. The walls of the room, too, were closing in, and there was a strange, roaring noise--like that of mills working....

With a terrific effort she fought unconsciousness away....

_Her--their nest then, was, after all, inviolate. He had never taken Anne there. Betty had sent him. And--he had--been bored--stiff...._

It was as if a mine had been sprung beneath the spot upon which had been dumped her emotions of the last two months, blowing some to atoms, bringing to light others that had lain buried. Out of the wrack, joy, shame, fear fell at her feet--and a sentence out of a letter was staring her in the face.

"_His explanation will shame you, of course, but take the lesson to heart._"

"I wonder," she said shakily, "if you could give me Major Lyveden's address."

"I would, like a shot," said Anne heartily, "but he wouldn't leave one."

Again the rumble of those labouring mills came swelling out of the silence into a roar that was thunderous, brain-shaking.... For a moment of time they pounded the understanding mercilessly.... Then, all of a sudden, the machinery stopped.

The corn was ground.