Waiting alone in the gleaming, antiseptic operating theatre, with the looming far-off clamour of the playing fields wafting in from outside, Lady Harold thought once more of dashing Mitzi von Lincoln, the masterful tutor who had transformed her from a mere girl into a real woman. He was now, according to The Times, a prisoner in the very castle he had once owned.
   Only in this moment of extremity could it have happened that came the sound of her own name being called, and she instinctively checked her fingernails. He was here! “Even the crafty Nelly couldn’t keep me from you, my giddy little goose!” he said.
   It was then that he went down on his knees and implored her to forgive him, and as the horror of these last months vanished in a blaze of joy, she began to wonder how she would explain all this to Sam.