"A false alarm, Hamish! It's only Martin Pope."

"Martin Pope!" echoed Hamish, considerably relieved, for Martin Pope
was an acquaintance of his, and sub-editor of one of the Helstonleigh
newspapers. "Why could not Judy have opened her mouth?"

He ran down the stairs, the colour, which had left his face, returning
to it. But it did not to that of Constance; hers had changed to an ashy
whiteness. Arthur saw her standing there; saw that she must have heard
and understood all.

"Oh, Arthur, has it come to this? Is Hamish in _that_ depth of debt!"

"Hush! What brought you here, Constance?"

"What writ is it that he fears? Is there indeed one out against him?"

"I don't know much about it. There may be one."

She wrung her hands. "The next thing to a writ is a prison, is it not?
If he should be taken, what would become of the office--of papa's
position?"

"Do not agitate yourself," he implored. "It can do no good."

"Nothing can do good: nothing, nothing. Oh, what trouble!"

"Constance, in the greatest trouble there is always one Refuge."