plied the mother of my well-beloved. 'I thought perhaps she might have flown somewhere and had a breakdown, and was therefore unable to return, or to let me know last night. That happened, you recollect, when she came to grief while flying over the Norfolk Broads.'
'But she never arrived at Hendon yesterday,' I exclaimed. 'I was there all the morning.'
'So I understand from Mr. Carrington of the Grahame-White School, to whom I telephoned this morning. It was after learning this curious fact that I began to try and get into communication with you.'
'Well—where can she possibly be?' I asked in blank dismay.
'The only thing I can think of is that she altered her mind at the last moment, and went to see some friends. She may have given a servant a telegram to send to me, and the servant forgot to dispatch it. Such things have happened, you know.'
I shook my head dubiously. Knowing Roseye as I did, I knew that she always sent important messages herself.
'One thing is certain, that she has not met with an accident while flying, for her machine is still locked up in the hangar.'
'Yes. It is a consolation to know that she has not gone up and disappeared.'
'No,' I said. 'She seems to have intended to meet me. But we had no appointment to meet. My intention yesterday morning was to go over to Gunnersbury, and I only changed my mind five minutes before I left my rooms. I spent part
