Needless to say Claudia did not report the conversation with Lady Wyke to the Rector or to his wife, as neither of them would have understood, so shameless a chase of age after youth. But the girl was anxious to disburden her mind, and looked forward anxiously for the arrival of Edwin, who was expected down to spend the usual week-end. After luncheon the Rector retired to write his sermon, while Mrs. Craver found that she had household duties to do. The young couple were left alone, and forthwith Claudia related all that had taken place on the cliffs. Her lover was greatly annoyed.

"But we can't talk over things quietly here," he said, taking Claudia's arm and moving towards the dining-room door. "Mother is sure to pop in and out when least expected, and I don't want her to hear about Lady Wyke's vagaries."

"I have said nothing, Edwin."

He squeezed her arm. "That is wise of you, dearest. Let us go into the garden and thresh the matter out. I have something to tell you also."

They found a secluded arbour at the bottom of what was called the Laurel Walk from its hedges, and there sat down comfortably. It was quite a place for lovers, and being springtime, they should have paid their devotions to Cupid. But matters were much too serious for trifling of this sort, and the golden hour was filled with the discussion of important matters. Edwin's very first remark made Claudia angry--and with her lover.

"Lady Wyke has ben persecuting me with personal attentions and with letters."

"Oh!" The girl's eyes flashed and her cheeks grew red. "Why didn't you tell me, Edwin?"

"I didn't wish to worry you, dear."

"Your worries are my worries, Edwin. I wish to be your comrade as well as your wife. I think it is very unkind of you to keep silent."

"Well, you know, Claudia, a fellow does feel a bit of an ass in talking about a woman running after him. Spare my blushes!"

"It's all very well turning it into a joke, Edwin," cried the girl, indignantly, "but it is no joke. Lady Wyke is a most dangerous woman."

"Why, what harm can she do?"

"She can hurt my father, if her last threat is to be believed."

"Ah, but is it to be believed?" questioned the young man shrewdly.

"Yes it is. Lady Wyke is growing old, and, as you know, there is no fool like an old fool. She has fallen in love with you, and will move and earth to get you as her husband."

Edwin frowned. "That is quite true." Then he smiled. "She has asked me to afternoon tea."

"Oh, what impertinence! You won't go."

"I leave the decision to you, Claudia," said Craver, drily.

"What does she wish to see you about?"

"I understand from her that she will explain when I call, not before." There was silence for quite a minute. "You had better go, Edwin," said, Claudia, becoming more her reasonable resolute self, and speaking decisively. "I am quite sure that Lady Wyke suspects my father with something in connection with the death of her husband. She may even believe that he is guilty. Perhaps I was foolish not to stay on the cliffs and hear what she had to say. But I was in a rage. I only wanted to hurt her, and did so by laughing."

"You cut off your nose to spite your face." said Edwin, with a shrug. "That is not like you, Claudia."

"No, it isn't," she answered penitently. "Usually I am calm and self-possessed when there is trouble. But Lady Wyke makes me so angry with her insolence that I lose control of myself. How has she persecuted you, Edwin."

"I told you. Nearly every day she has written to me at the factory, saying a great deal without making clear what she really does mean. Three or four times she has been in town, and I have had interviews with regard to the motor she bought. This was wrong, and that was wrong, when, as a matter of fact, nothing was wrong. Then she wrote inviting me to take her to the theatre; she asked me to dinner; she sent me a box of cigarettes----"

"Oh!" Claudia was furious. "You returned the cigarettes?"

"Well, dear; I couldn't do that without appearing to be rude."

"Then you should have been rude, very rude. She deserves rudeness."

"But I refused the dinners and the theatres on the plea that I was busy. I did not intend to see her to-day, but after her conversation with you, I think it is just as well that she should understand things."

"I agree. Tell her you intend to marry me and not her. Oh, what a cat she is! What a persistent, spiteful cat!"

"She is showing her claws at any rate," said Craver, with a shrug. "It is puzzling to know why she has taken this mad fancy to me."

"It's not puzzling at all," rejoined Claudia, promptly. "I took a fancy to you myself. You are handsome and clever and----"

"Oh, spare my blushes!" interrupted Edwin again, and really did grow crimson at these crude compliments. "You make me feel an ass. But there is no doubt," he continued seriously, "that she means mischief with regard to your father."

"You don't think that he is guilty, Edwin?" faltered the girl, wincing.

"No, no! Certainly he is innocent. But he was in the house when Wyke was murdered, and Lady Wyke may try to implicate him in the matter. Sergeant Purse isn't very clever, you know, while she is; so she may be able to twist him, round her finger. I'd better pay the visit, Claudia."

"Yes. But don't--don't--kiss--her."

"Claudia!"

"I know I'm silly," said Miss Lemby, dismally; "but she's old and desperately in love with you. I don't say that you'll kiss her----"

"Which you did," interpolated Edwin.

"But she may kiss you."

Very much amused, Edwin jumped up and swung Claudia to her feet, "You are a silly child," he said fondly. "You are the only woman I ever loved, or ever shall love. Will you come with me and keep guard?"

"No!" Claudia stamped viciously, "I couldn't keep my temper. She certainly means mischief with regard to my father, Edwin, for she is keeping him on the string."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean what I say. Dad wants to marry her and get the money. He said so. She guesses that, and is allowi............