“I want you to write to my servant, to bid him bring my baggage to the nearest inn⁠—”

“That will I not! I shall tell him to bring it here.”

“But, Miss Betty, I cannot possibly trespass upon⁠—”

“Will you have done? Trespass indeed!”

“I perceive I shall be much put upon,” sighed Jack, and watched her lightning smile.

“You boy ! Will you dictate?”

“Very well, ma’am. No, I have changed my mind. I’ll have it writ to a friend, please: ‘Dear Miles.⁠ ⁠… True to my promise.⁠ ⁠… I write to you.⁠ ⁠… In case⁠ ⁠… you should be worried⁠ ⁠… over my disappearance⁠ ⁠… be it known⁠ ⁠… that I am at’⁠—pray, madam, where am I?”

“Horton Manor, Littledean,” she replied, writing it down.