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admit the truth, he was satisfied. Satisfied, but something else as well. Some other emotion was there, but what it was she could not even guess.
    Perhaps he would have told her, but he had no opportunity, for at that moment the door opened and Mrs. Mayberry, in her wheelchair, was pushed into the room by Bertha.
    “I’m sorry I've kept you waiting,” Mrs. Mayberry apologised. “But I had a sudden idea, and I just had to get it on to paper! Yes, just a small sherry, Owen, and then we’ll go in to dinner.”
    To Lucy’s relief, Mrs. Mayberry did not seem to notice anything at all strained in the atmosphere. Had she seen the enquiring lift of her employer’s eyebrows as she took her glass of sherry from her nephew she might not have felt so sure. On the other hand, the bland, completely noncommittal smile which was the only reply Owen gave might have reassured her.
    * * *
    To her surprise, Lucy ate quite a good dinner. That might have been because the food was very attractive and she had eaten little that day, or it might have been the consciousness that Owen was keeping a constant and critical watch on her. Whatever the reason, Lucy had to admit that she felt better for the meal.
    After dinner Owen announced that he was going out for an hour or so, and Mrs. Mayberry took the opportunity to discuss business matters with Lucy.
    First of all there was the question of salary, which had so far not been mentioned. The sum Mrs. Mayberry suggested was less than Lucy had been earning in Mr. Keane’s office, but on the other hand, she would not have the expense of travelling up to town each day and she would be living in. Taking this into consideration, she accepted the offer unhesitatingly.
    “And now, tell me about yourself,” Mrs. Mayberry went on. “Or rather, your abilities. I think my brother said that your shorthand and typing speeds were quite good?”
    “Mr. Keane seemed to find them satisfactory,” Lucy admitted. “Although he didn’t dictate very quickly— and, of course, I became familiar with the legal terms he used.”
    “Yes, of course. I’m glad you brought that point up,” Mrs. Mayberry told her. “You see, with historical novels, one must use phrasing suitable to the period, at least in dialogue, although I must say one does come across writers who appear to rely entirely upon illustrations to convey atmosphere. On the other hand, one cannot be too pedantic because that can be quite irritating to a reader. There is no doubt about it, you see, our ancestors did have what seems to us a most peculiar way of expressing themselves—almost unintelligible at times, in fact. You have only to read sixteenth-century letters—and it is the Tudor period with which I shall be dealing—to appreciate that. So, out of necessity, I have had to work out some sort of compromise, using a turn of phrase rather than unfamiliar words. None the less, one cannot entirely eliminate them, so while I have been without a secretary, I have worked out a glossary which will help you both to see what I'm driving at and to familiarise you with unfamiliar spelling. I'll give it to you tomorrow morning."
    “Thank you,” Lucy said gratefully. The last thing she wanted was for Mrs. Mayberry to be dissatisfied with her efforts, and it was reassuring to find that she would be working for a businesslike person.
    “My story is of the extremely interesting and dangerous period just preceding Queen Mary’s death and the succession of the Princess Elizabeth,” Mrs. Mayberry went on in an eager way that showed clearly how much her work meant to her. “You see, no one quite knew what was going to happen. The Queen had quite seriously considered executing her half-sister. Up to the very last, she might have done so. If she had, there was a very real possibility that her husband, Philip of Spain, would have succeeded her. Indeed, that could happen in any case. If it had, then obviously those of the Catholic faith could have hoped to keep