SOON THEY were speeding in a south-westerly direction, and although Mrs Cody was not an entertaining hostess, the girl found plenty to think about, and certainly did not resent the silence of this over-dressed woman. In less than an hour the car swung through a pair of heavy iron gates, up a long avenue, and stopped before a medium-sized house.
Sybil had never met the stout and smiling man who came to meet her.
“Ah! So this is the daughter of my old friend!” he said, almost jovially. “Little Sybil! You don’t remember me, of course?”
Sybil smiled.
“I’m afraid I don’t, Dr Cody,” she said.
“You wouldn’t, my dear, you wouldn’t.” His manner was paternal, but Mrs Cody, who knew her husband much better than most people, and who could detect his most subtle nuances of tone, shot one cold, bal
