I broke her heart," thought Mike; "but I'm not to blame; I
couldn't go on loving any woman for ever, not if she were Venus
herself." And questioning the groom regarding the servants then at
Belthorpe, he learnt with certain satisfaction that Fairfield had
left immediately after her ladyship's death. The groom had never
heard of Harrison (he had only been a year and a half in her
ladyship's service).

"This is Belthorpe Park, sir--these are the lodge gates."

Mike was disappointed in the lodge. The park he could not
distinguish. Mist hung like a white fleece. There were patches of
ferns; hawthorns loomed suddenly into sight; high trees raised their
bare branches to the brilliancy of the moon.

"Not half bad," thought Mike, "quite a gentleman's place."

"Rather rough land in parts--plenty of rabbits," he remarked to the
groom; and he won the man's sympathies by various questions
concerning the best method of getting hunters into condition. The
rooks talked gently in the branches of some elms, around which the
drive turned through rough undulating ground. Plantations became
numerous; tall, spire-like firs appeared, their shadows floating
through the interspaces; and, amid straight walks and dwarf yews, in
the fulness of the moonlight, there shone a white house, with large
French windows and a tower at the further end. A white peacock asleep
on a window-sill startled Mike, and he thought of the ghost of his
dead mistress.

Nor could he account for his trepidation as he waited for the front
door to open, and Hunt seemed to him aggressively large and pompous,
and he would have preferred an assumption on the part of the servant
that he knew the relative positions of the library and drawing-room.
But Hunt was resolved on explanation, and as they went up-stairs he
pointed out the room where Lady Seeley died, and spoke of the late
Earl. "You want the sack and you shall get it, my friend," thought
Mike, and he glanced hurriedly at the beautiful pieces of furniture
about the branching staircase and the gallery leading into the
various corridors. At dinner he ate without noticing the choiceness
of the cooking, and he drank several glasses of champagne before he
remarked the excellence of the wine.

"We have not many dozen left, sir; I heard that his lordship laid it
down in '75."

Hunt watched him with cat-like patience and hound-like sagacity, and
seeing he had forgotten his cigar-case, he instantly produced a box.
Mike