ge-keeper was unfastening the bolt, and remembered
afterwards that he had noticed the elaborate iron-work, and the nebuly
coat which was set over the great gates. He was in the long avenue now,
and he wished it had been longer, he wished that it might never end; and
then the fly stopped again, and Lord Blandamer on horseback was speaking
to him through the carriage window.

There was a second's pause, while the two men looked each other directly
in the eyes, and in that look all doubt on either side was ended.
Westray felt as if he had received a staggering blow as he came face to
face with naked truth, and Lord Blandamer read Westray's thoughts, and
knew the extent of his discovery.

Lord Blandamer was the first to speak.

"I am glad to see you again," he said with perfect courtesy, "and am
very much obliged to you for taking this trouble in bringing the
picture." And he glanced at the crate that Westray was steadying with
his hand on the opposite seat. "I only regret that you would not let me
send a carriage to Lytchett."

"Thank you," said the architect; "on the present occasion I preferred to
be entirely independent." His words were cold, and were meant to be
cold, and yet as he looked at the other's gentle bearing, and the grave
face in which sadness was a charm; he felt constrained to abate in part
the effect of his own remark, and added somewhat awkwardly: "You see, I
was uncertain about the trains."

"I am riding back across the grass," Lord Blandamer said, "but shall be
at the house before you;" and as he galloped off, Westray knew that he
rode exceedingly well.

This meeting, he guessed, had been contrived to avoid the embarrassment
of a more formal beginning. It was obvious that their terms of former
friendship could no longer be maintained. Nothing would have induced
him to have shaken hands, and this Lord Blandamer must have known.

As Westray stepped into the hall through Inigo Jones' Ionic portico,
Lord Blandamer entered from a side-door.

"You must be cold after your long drive. Will you not take a biscuit
and a glass of wine?"

Westray motioned away the refreshment which a footman offered him.

"No, thank you," he said; "I will not take anything." It was impossible
for him to eat or drink in this house, and yet again he softened his
words by adding: "I had something to eat on the way."

The architect's refusal was not lost upon Lord Blandamer. He had known
before he spoke that his