tailor's daughter, you know. Gad, if she didn't set an Irish Dragoon
Captain on me!--I went about in danger of my life. The fellow began to
twist his damned black moustaches the moment he clapped eyes on me--
bullied me till, upon my soul, I was almost ready to fight him! Oh, she
was a little tripping Tartar of a bantam hen then. She's grown since
she's been countessed, and does it peacocky. Now, I give you fair
warning, you know. She's more than any man's match.'

'I dare say I shall think the same when she has beaten me,' quoth cynical
Drummond, and immediately went and gave orders for his horse to be
saddled, thinking that he would tread on the head of the viper.

But shortly before the hour of his departure, Mrs. Evremonde summoned him
to her, and showed him a slip of paper, on which was written, in an
uncouth small hand:

'Madam: a friend warns you that your husband is coming here. Deep
interest in your welfare is the cause of an anonymous communication. The
writer wishes only to warn you in time.'

Mrs. Evremonde told Drummond that she had received it from one of the
servants when leaving the breakfast-room. Beyond the fact that a man on
horseback had handed it to a little boy, who had delivered it over to the
footman, Drummond could learn nothing. Of course, all thought of the
journey to Lymport was abandoned. If but to excogitate a motive for the
origin of the document, Drummond was forced to remain; and now he had it,
and now he lost it again; and as he was wandering about in his maze, the
Countess met him with a 'Good morning, Mr., Forth. Have I impeded your
expedition by taking my friend Mr. Harry to cavalier me to-day?'