Mannering nodded.

"Behind the sandhills there," he remarked.

There was a grinding of brakes. The car came to a standstill below. A
woman, who sat alone in the back seat, raised her veil and looked
upwards.

"Am I late?" she asked. "Clara has gone on--they told me!"

She had addressed Mannering, but her eyes seemed suddenly drawn to
Borrowdean. As though dazzled by the sun, she dropped her veil.
Borrowdean was standing as though turned to stone, perfectly rigid and
motionless. His face was like a still, white mask.

"I am so sorry," Mannering said, "but I have had a most unexpected visit
from an old friend. May I introduce Sir Leslie Borrowdean--Mrs.
Handsell!"

The lady in the car bent her head, and Borrowdean performed an automatic
salute. Mannering continued:

"I am afraid that I must throw myself upon your mercy! Sir Leslie insists
upon returning this afternoon, and I am taking him back for an early
luncheon. You will find Clara and Lindsay at the golf club. May we have
our foursome to-morrow?"

"Certainly! I will not keep you for a moment. I must hurry now, or the
tide will be over the road."