Listen attentively. A good deal depends on your discretion. A stranger
may call. The stranger may be either a man or a woman. He or she will
ask to see me. Finding I am away this person, whether man or woman, will
try to have an interview with either you or Mabel, and will endeavor by
every means to get my address. Mabel, knowing nothing, can reveal
nothing, and you, Kate, you are to put the stranger on the wrong scent,
to get rid of the stranger by some means, and immediately to telegraph
to me. My address is in this closed-up envelope. Lock the envelope in
your desk; open it if the contingency to which I have alluded occurs,
not otherwise. And now, my dear child, I must go upstairs and pack."

Catherine roused herself from her kneeling position with difficulty. She
felt cold and stiff, queer and old.

"Shall I help you, mother," she asked.

"No, my dear, I shall ring for Clara. I shall tell Clara that I am going
to Manchester. A train to Manchester can be taken from Fleet-hill
Junction, so it will all sound quite natural. Go out to Mabel, dear.
Tell her any story you like."

"I don't tell stories, mother. I shall have nothing to say to Mabel."

"Tell her nothing, then; only run away. What is the matter now?"

"One thing before you go, mother. I too had a letter to-night."

"Had you, my dear? I cannot be worried about your correspondence now."

"My letter was from Loftie."