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Nor was she wrong. Hector, looking mildly surprised, stood up as she came in and waited in silence for her to explain her presence.

“I’m hoping you can spare me a few minutes of your time, Sir Hector,” she said blandly. “But if it isn’t convenient, please say so and perhaps we can arrange a time later—?”

“It’s quite convenient,” Hector told her just as blandly. “Do sit down, Miss Ainslie.” And when she did so: “Now, please do tell me what’s worrying you.”

“Just this, Sir Hector—I’m used to being rather a busy person, and frankly, I’ve got so much time on my hands at present that I’m really feeling bored. I’ve been wondering if there’s any way in which I can make myself useful to you—” And she lifted earnest, and she trusted, guileless eyes to his.

For a moment he didn’t answer. Leaning back in his chair, his forearms resting on its wooden arms, his long, well-shaped hands dangling, he regarded her with interest.

“Now, do you know, I find that surprising,” he remarked. “I realise that ferrying your aunt to the hospital and doing the very few odd jobs that you would be permitted in that extremely well run flat of Aunt Millicent’s can’t fill all your time. But then I would have thought you were the sort of person who would have plenty of resources within yourself to fill in spare time. But evidently that isn’t the case.”

“No, it isn’t,” Meg agreed guardedly. She had the unpleasant feeling that he was playing some sort of cat and mouse game with her and she had got to be very alert in order to avoid being caught.

Hector appeared to consider that, and Meg thought she had got away with it. Then, alarmingly, he shook his head.

“No, Miss Ainslie, I simply can’t believe that,” he told her with unequivocal conviction. “In fact, I’m quite convinced that your reason for making this request is an entirely different one.”

“Do you?” Meg forced herself to speak coolly. “Such as what?”

“Such as the possibility that you’re too independent— rather unpleasantly so, in my opinion—to accept help however willingly it’s given.”

“I don’t see anything unpleasant in that!” Meg retorted hotly. “Should one take—help for granted?”

His eyes narrowed and she knew that her inadvertent hesitation had betrayed her.

“What you mean,” he said deliberately, “is that you don’t want to accept what you have decided is charity at my hands. Isn’t that it?”

He was getting so near to the truth that Meg forgot all her carefully prepared arguments and said the first thing that came into her head.

“Would you like it if the position was reversed?” she demanded. “Would
you
like to accept charity ?”

“I think it would depend who offered it,” he said consideringly. “Yes, I’m sure it would. There is, after all, another word for charity—a more gracious and fitting one, I think.”

“Not in this case,” Meg insisted firmly.

“Perhaps not,” he agreed “Well, this is the situation, then—you feel that you’re in my debt and you would like to do something to put us all square?”

“Yes, that’s it,” Meg said breathlessly, unconscious that she leaned forward expectantly. Now, surely, he must show his hand—tell her that there was no need for her to worry, that he had already decided on the form of repayment which would suit him best.

The moments ticked by. One of Hector’s hands was lying on the desk now and the long fingers were tapping a monotonous little rhythm. The blue eyes were hidden as he stared down at his hand and he was frowning—

Suddenly he seemed to make up his mind. He lifted his eyes to her face and she gave a little gasp at the deep intentness of them.

“Very well, we’ll regard your attitude as so much proper pride,” he said quietly. “You want to know if you can make yourself useful to me in any way—”

“Yes,” Meg said faintly, wondering what on earth was coming now.

“Well, you’d better tell me what you’re capable of,” he suggested briskly. “What, for instance, did you do for your uncle—I gather you acted as his receptionist and of course, in that capacity, you would be of no use to me. But perhaps you had other duties?”

“Yes,” Meg admitted. “I kept his appointment book and did his accounts and typed his letters—”

“I see. And can you write shorthand?” Hector asked with interest.

"Yes—provided there aren’t too many unfamiliar technical terms,” Meg said rather breathlessly. “I had learned most of Uncle’s, of course—”

“Naturally,” Hector nodded. “And I very much doubt if I will use any which would bother you too much. So—” he paused as if to give emphasis to what was coming, “that’s settled!”

“What is?” Meg asked blankly.

“Why, that you should give me some of your time helping with my paper work,” he told her in surprise. “Hadn’t I made that clear?”

“Not very,” Meg told him, and Hector raised his eyebrows.

“And you’re not very keen on the idea?” He shook his head regretfully. “A pity. I could certainly do with help, and I’m afraid it’s the only work I can offer you, Miss Ainslie. However, it’s for you to decide—”

He spoke in a voice absolutely devoid of expression, but Meg was convinced she could read his thoughts. If she didn’t accept his offer, he would assume that far from being sincere in her wish to repay him, she had simply been making a gesture which she had been quite sure would not be accepted. And then he would say something like:

“Ah well, we must look for some other method whereby you—and your family—can get out of my debt.”

And that, she knew, would mean Fiona had been right—it was Nanny’s cottage he was after! It was her sincerity which was in doubt—he didn’t believe for a moment that she would be willing to work for him! Well, she would call that bluff!

“I didn’t quite understand,” she told him coolly. “But now that I do, I most certainly agree to do as you suggest. When would you like me to start?”

She had thought that perhaps surprise would make him give himself away—that he would show signs of chagrin and annoyance—but there was nothing of the sort in those blue eyes. Instead, disconcertingly, she read considerable satisfaction and—amusement!

She had walked blindly into his trap and there was not a thing she could do about it. She was committed to work at close quarters with this man who puzzled, annoyed and disturbed her.

Disturbed? Yes, that was the principal thing she felt, and she knew that it was because, whatever else he might be, whether one liked him or not, he was simply not the sort of man one could ever ignore or to whom one could ever be indifferent—

*

Both Aunt Ellen and Mrs Laidlaw greeted the news of the arrangement with considerable satisfaction, though for different reasons.

Aunt Ellen exclaimed:

“My dear, what an excellent plan! It will give you something interesting to do, and it will be so much easier to fit in with visits to the hospital than any work away from the house could have done.”

Mrs Laidlaw remarked that Hector had been needing a secretary for some time, as she had told him on more than one occasion.

“Of course, Hector deals with all the paper work
most
conscientiously, but it irks him to have to spend so much time in his office when he feels he could be so much more usefully employed out of doors. I’m really delighted to hear this news!” And she beamed at Meg with unstinted approval.

Fiona said nothing, but she looked very thoughtful and a little later she slipped quietly out of the room. When she returned some half-hour later, there were two bright spots of colour burning in her cheeks which owed nothing to make-up and her expression was so sulky that it wasn’t difficult to guess what had happened. She had taken it on herself to express disapproval of the plan to Hector and had been told in no uncertain manner to mind her own business.

It wouldn’t have been surprising if Meg had felt a certain satisfaction that the girl who had made herself so unpleasant had been put in her place, but in actual fact she felt nothing of the sort. On the contrary, she felt uneasy. That right from the beginning Fiona had resented both Uncle Andra and herself hadn’t been pleasant, but now she felt that there was something more personal about Fiona’s dislike for herself. There was very definite spite in it now, as if—as if—

Meg hesitated to define the reason, for the only one she could think of was so absurd that it didn’t really deserve serious consideration. It was almost as if Fiona was afraid of her because she regarded her as a rival! But a rival for what?

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Meg thought impatiently. “Surely she can’t have got the same bee in her bonnet that Jeremy has about me being in love with Hector! ”

But now that the idea had occurred to her, inevitably another query sprang into her mind. Had it been Fiona who had put the idea into Jeremy’s head? After all, at the time she had wondered how on earth he had arrived at such a conclusion. Now she felt that she knew the answer to that—and what Fiona’s motive had been.

Fiona might be undecided which of the two men she would decide to marry, but until she had made up her mind she regarded them both as her property and had no intention of allowing any other girl to trespass on her preserves. Meg grimaced distastefully. If it was true, then Fiona really was a thoroughly unpleasant person and deserved neither consideration nor sympathy. None the less, Meg felt as if she herself was in some way contaminated for even having thought of such a thing.

She did her best to put the whole matter out of her mind, but one question nagged at her: if Fiona was responsible for putting the notion into Jeremy’s head because she resented him feeling even friendship towards any other girl, what had she said to Hector to dissuade him from making that same girl his secretary? What could she say? That because there was so much ill-feeling between the two men then Meg, being in love with Jeremy, wasn’t to be trusted with access to all the Heronshaw private business?

Well, if that was that she had done, she must have been disappointed at the result, for her annoyance made it perfectly clear that she hadn’t met with success. Perhaps Hector had had the good sense not to believe the story—after all, there was no evidence to support it. Or perhaps he had simply told her that he was quite capable of protecting his own interest without advice or interference from anyone else.

Yes, on the whole, she thought that was probably the line he had taken—it would, after all, be in character, and it was reassuring to be able to feel that the other girl’s spite wouldn’t influence Hector. On the other hand, she didn’t doubt for a moment but that he wouldn’t immediately trust her absolutely. And who could blame him for that? He really knew very little about her, and as was the case in her feeling towards him, not all that he knew did he feel was to her credit.

Meg drew a deep breath. She would have to
win
his confidence. It was a challenge—and one which she had every intention of accepting. The thought brought colour to her cheeks and a gleam to her eyes,. She could hardly wait to begin working for him!

Meg was very careful to arrive punctually at. the time they had arranged for their first session. Hector was already working at his big desk and didn’t stand up to greet her as he indicated the chair opposite to his.

“I’ve a batch of letters I’d like to give you,” he told her in a brisk, businesslike way. “That notebook in front of you—is it suitable?”

“Quite,” Meg said equably as she took her ball-point pen from her handbag, and sat with it poised over the notebook.

Without further ado Hector began to dictate his letters, and Meg quickly discovered that he was one of those rare beings—a person who knew what he wanted to say, expressed himself concisely and, most unusual of all, had no irritating mannerisms. To her own annoyance she had felt more than a little nervous, but before she had finished more than a couple of paragraphs she was completely at her ease. And so, for that matter, was Hector. Only once, when a telephone call had interrupted him, did he ask her to repeat the incomplete sentence. And when, at the end, he asked her if she had any queries, Meg had only two which were perfectly justifiable since he had used agricultural terms with which she was unfamiliar. He spelt them out for her, added a brief explanation of what they meant and stood up.

“One thing about an old house like this is that there are so many rooms which lead off one another,” he remarked, and walked over to what looked like a section of panelling between two rows of bookshelves. “This door opens like the one at the foot of the stairs—” he explained, pushing a small, unobtrusive switch at which the door opened. “I’d just like you to check that you have everything you need—” he went on, and stood back for her to go in.

Meg looked round the room with interest. It was smaller than Hector’s study-office but comfortably roomy for all that. The furniture, apart from the desk, a swivel chair and a modem-looking typewriter, consisted of several filing cabinets, a small extra table and chair and a cupboard which Hector opened to display a stock of various stationery supplies. The floor was carpeted, there was a radiator run off the central heating and two good sized windows which gave excellent lighting.

“All right?” Hector asked briskly.

But to Meg’s ears there was just the tiniest hint of complacency in his voice. It was a pleasant and convenient room in which to work—and he knew it! What was more, he was responsible for it.

“Oh yes,” Meg said unhesitatingly. “In fact, there’s only one suggestion I’d like to make—”

“Indeed?” There was a definitely dry note in his voice.

“Yes,” Meg said gently. “A desk lamp. It would throw a better light on to one’s work than an overhead one does.” She couldn’t resist lifting earnest, guileless eyes to his to see how he took that and saw, to her annoyance, that there was just that same glint of amusement in his blue ones which she had surprised there once before.

“I see your point,” he told her. “In fact, it’s already on order and it should arrive today or tomorrow. In the meantime, I hope it won’t cause you too much inconvenience to be without it.”