ate!"

CHAPTER III

From the point of view of the onlooker there could have been nothing
suspicious in the attitude of the pseudo waiter with his tray. He could
see Beatrice leaning back as if the pain in her head had made her
oblivious to everything else. As a matter of fact, Beatrice was racking
her brains for some way out of the difficulty. The self-elected waiter
could not stay there much longer, in any case, at least not unless the
suspicious Richford took it in his head to return to the dinner-table
again.

"It is so good of you to come," Beatrice said, still with her head
thrown back in the air. "That man has followed me, though Heaven knows
what he has to be suspicious about. Go away for a few minutes, as if you
had forgotten something, and then return again."

Mark Ventmore assented with a low bow. Scarcely had he left the
conservatory by a door leading to the corridor than Richford strolled
in.

"Feeling better now?" he asked ungraciously. "Funny things, women's
headaches!"

"For Heaven's sake go away," Beatrice exclaimed. "Why do you come and
torture me like this? You are the very last I want to see just now.
Don't drive me over the border. Go back to the others, and leave me in
peace."

With a sullen air, Richford lounged away; Colonel Berrington was
crossing the drawing-room, and Beatrice's heart beat high with hope.
She might have known that the gallant soldier would help her if
possible. With unspeakable relief she saw Richford tactfully drawn away
and disappear. Very quickly Beatrice changed her seat, so that she could
command a view of the drawing-room without herself being seen. The side
door opened, and Mark Ventmore came in again. He carried a tray still,
but he no longer looked like a waiter. With one quick glance around him
he advanced to Beatrice and knelt by the side of her chair.

"My darling," he whispered. "Oh, my dear little love! Am I too late?"

Beatrice said nothing for a moment. She was content only to forget her
unhappy lot in the knowledge that the one man she had ever cared for was
by her side. Ventmore's arm stole about her; her head drooped to his
shoulder. There was a faint, unsteady smile on the girl's lips as
Ventmore bent and kissed her passionately.

"Why did you not come before?" she asked.

"My dearest, I could not. I was away from my quarters, and I did not get
your letter. I am only here quite by chance. But is it too late?"

"Oh, I fear so; I fear so