The change was so sudden that it came near to breaking Margaret’s self-control. He did not wait for an answer. He was the old Charles asking her for help.

“We’ve got to put a stop to it. It can’t go on. Can’t you help me? If you’d just tell me the whole thing.”

“But I have.”

“You said you joined. What happened after that? Did you meet any of these people? Did you do anything? Did they make you do anything?”

“I went two or three times to meetings.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. The first time I just went. There were two men in the room. They both wore masks. They gave me a number-twenty-six-and I came away. I went again about a year later. They asked me to sign another statement. I said I wouldn’t at first; but in the end I did.”

“Did Freddy go with you?”

“No, I went alone. The last time was the time you saw me. Freddy was ill. He said there was a meeting, and he gave me some papers to take. I gave them to Grey Mask and came away.”

“He spoke to you.”

“He asked if Freddy was really ill. He didn’t use his name, you know-only a number.”

“The other man”-Charles spoke eagerly-“the one at the table? He had his back to me, but you must have seen his face.”

“No-he had a mask. I never saw anyone’s face-only masks.”

He made an exclamation of disappointment.

“Well, you see I must get her away. I knocked Archie up after I left here last night, and he says he’ll take her along to his cousin, Ernestine Foster. He says she’ll take her in all right. Of course she won’t know who she is.”

“Until Greta gives herself away.”

“Greta must be told not to give herself away.”

Margaret’s eyebrows went up.

“I know,” said Charles. “But I shall put it across her. She’s not to mention Egbert, or poor Papa, or that blighted school of hers.”

Greta put her head round the door and uttered a cry of rapture.

“Oh, Charles! How lovely! Have you come to take me out? Is it fine? Where are we going? I want to drive the whole way to-day. But you’ll have to wait-I’m not dressed.”

“So I see.”

Greta came farther into the room. She wore a pale blue kimono; her feet were bare.

“This is Margaret’s dressing-gown. Isn’t it pretty? It’s one she had ages ago in her trousseau-Isn’t it, Margaret? She wouldn’t quite say it was; but I’m sure it was really, and she didn’t say ‘No.’ Of course the colours were brighter before it was washed. I’m going to have one just like it.”

“Go and dress, baby,” said Margaret. “Charles has come to take you away.”

Charles found the light words tragic. The tragedy was in Margaret’s voice and eyes.

Greta gave a little scream.

“Where are we going, Charles? Where are you going to take me? Are you going to take me right away?”

She held his arm, tugging at it as a child might have done.

“I’m not going to take you like that. Go and dress. You’re going to stay with a cousin of Archie’s for a bit.”

“How frightfully exciting! But I don’t want to go away from Margaret. Won’t she have me any longer?”

She left Charles and flung her arms round Margaret.

“I don’t want to go away. Even if it’s a little bit dull all the time you’re out, I’d rather stay here-I would really. Why are you sending me away? Are you angry?”

Margaret shook her head. Just for a moment she could not speak.

“Charles, ask her to let me stay!” The bare arms were round Margaret’s neck. “Margaret, I do love you! And you saved my life yesterday-Charles, she really did. So she ought to keep me. I should have been right under that horrible bus if she hadn’t simply clutched me.”

“What?”

“She clutched me and pulled me back. I told you someone pushed me. And if Margaret hadn’t grabbed me, I should have gone right under the bus-I know I should.”

Charles did not look at Margaret. He experienced some tumultuous emotions. He heard Margaret say, “I must go, or I shall be late. Greta, go and dress.”

“You haven’t had any breakfast, Margaret.”

“I can’t stop.”

“Oh-” said Greta.

Margaret had detached herself and was at the door. “Go and dress,” she said, and went out.

CHAPTER XXXII

The sun came out later on; the October air glowed in an enchanting mixture of warmth and freshness. It was strange to see the trees hung with yellow instead of green.

Margaret had a busy morning. Women buy new hats when the sun shines. A stout lady with red hair bought six hats one after the other. She did not try them on-that was Margaret’s business; she had to present Mrs. Collinson Jones with a pleasing picture of the hat she meant to buy. If it looked well on Margaret, she bought it with a magnificent disregard of her own contours and complexion. All the hats were very expensive.

When Mrs. Collinson Jones had departed, Margaret had a helpless bride and her still more helpless mother on her hands. Neither Mrs. Kennett nor Miss Rosabel Kennett had the very slightest idea what they wanted. They were both pretty, fair, fluffy, and ineffective. Rosabel tried on eighteen hats, and Mrs. Kennett always murmured “Sweet!” But in the end she and her daughter departed without having made a purchase.

The Kennetts were succeeded by Miss Canterbury, who wanted something which neither Sauterelle nor any other modern shop was likely to have.

“I don’t care about these hats that hide the ears-they swallow you up so. I remember a most charming hat I had before the war, trimmed with shaded tulle and ostrich feathers. I wore it to the Deanery garden-party, and it was much admired.”

Margaret tried to picture the tiny bent creature in a cart-wheel hat weighed down with trimming. She offered a neat small velvet shape.

“Would madam care to try this?”

“Feathers,” said Miss Canterbury peevishly.

“If madam liked, she could have a feather mount at the side.”

Miss Canterbury waved the shape away.

“Too small-too trivial. No, that one’s too large for me. No, I don’t care for velvet. The hat I was telling you about was made of the most charming crinoline straw, and the tulle was put on in big bows under the ostrich feathers-a most charming effect.”

“Perhaps we could make you a hat, madam?”

“No-I shouldn’t care for that. It’s really very disappointing not to be able to get an ordinary black hat with feathers in Sloane Street.”

After Miss Canterbury, a charming round-about little lady with plump rosy cheeks and crisp grey hair.

“Can you match this in a velour?”

Margaret took the scrap of crimson velvet ribbon. “I’m not sure, madam. I’ll show you what we have.”

As she crossed the room, one of the other girls spoke to her.

“Miss Langton, there are some new velours just come in.”

She came back to the little plump lady, and found herself scrutinised. The red hat was tried on; but the little lady’s attention seemed to wander.

“Very nice-yes, very nice indeed. Yes, I’ll take it. Did I hear someone call you Miss Langton just now?”

Margaret smiled and said, “Yes?”

The little lady hesitated and dropped her voice.

“Is your name Margaret? No, it can’t be. But the name- and I thought I saw a likeness-I used to know-”

“My name is Margaret Langton.”

“Not Esther Langton’s daughter! Oh, my dear, I’m so pleased to meet you. Your mother was a very great friend about a hundred years ago when we were all young and foolish-oh yes, a very great friend. Only you won’t ever have heard of me, I expect. My name is Mrs. Ravenna, but I used to be Lesbia Boyne.”

Margaret was so much startled that for a moment she wasn’t in Sloane Street at all. The hats, the showroom, weren’t there any more. She was standing at the door of another room, a very long-ago room indeed. Her mother was there, and a little lady in a lilac dress. Her mother said, “Lesbia-the child!”