CHAPTER IX

THE PEACEMAKER


"Bless my soul!" said General Bartholomew. He had turned to the last
page and looked at the signature. "Alicia Linden! I haven't heard a word
of her for five and twenty years. A confoundedly handsome girl she was
too. Hudson, where's my glasses?"

"Here, General," said the young secretary.

The General put them on.

"My dear George," he read.

It was a long letter, four pages closely written in Lady Linden's
strong, almost masculine hand.

"...I remember that when she visited me years ago, she told that me you
were an old friend of her father's. This being so, I think you should
combine with me in trying to bring these two wrong-headed young people
together. I have quarrelled with Hugh Alston, so I can do nothing at the
moment; but you, being on the spot so to speak, in London, and Hugh I
understand also being in London..."

"What the dickens is the woman drivelling about?" the General demanded.
"Hudson!"

"Yes, sir!"