— XV —THE TELEGRAM
That ninth of June was memorable from the rising of the sun to the going down thereof. Matutinal though his rising was, Miss Owen was not long after him. Perhaps it was because she had gone to bed so early the night before that she woke so early. Whatever was the cause, she did. When she put her head out of her open window, together – since no one was about – with no small portion of her white-robed figure, and discovered what a glorious morning it really was, she decided that to stop in bed or even indoors any longer would be a sin. In a remarkably short space of time, considering what a change had taken place in her appearance, she was out on the lawn, with her hat in her hand. A few minutes later she was marching across the downs towards the sea. Presently an observa
