he wrong and bring back the lost happiness
of us all. I cannot say more, but I implore you to let me have my own way
in this matter."

"Oh!" Littimer said, darkly, "so you are masquerading here?"

"I am. I admit it. Turn me out if you like; refuse to be a party to my
scheme. You may think badly of me now, probably you will think worse of
me later on. But I swear to you that I am acting with the best and purest
motives, and in your interest as much as my own."

"Then you are not entitled even to the name you bear?"

"No, I admit it freely. Consider, I need not have told you anything.
Things cannot be any worse than they are. Let me try and make them
better. Will you, will you _trust_ me?"

Chris's voice quivered, there were tears in her eyes. With a sudden
impulse Littimer laid his hands upon her shoulders and looked long and
searchingly into her eyes.

"Very well," he said, with a gentle sigh. "I will trust you. As a matter
of fact, I have felt that I could trust you from the first. I won't pry
into your schemes, because if they are successful I shall benefit by
them. And if you like to bring a cartload of convicts down here, pray do
so. It will only puzzle the neighbours, and drive them mad with
curiosity, and I love that."

"And you'll back me up in all I say and do?" Chris asked.

"Certainly I will. On the whole, I fancy I am going to have a pleasant
evening. I don't think dear Reginald will be pleased to see his friend at
dinner. If any of the spoons are missing I shall hold you responsible."

Chris went off to her room well pleased with the turn of events.
Brilliant audacity had succeeded where timid policy might have resulted
in dismal failure. And Littimer had refrained from asking any awkward
questions. From the window she could see Bell and Merritt walking up and
down the terrace, the latter talking volubly and worrying at a big cigar
as a dog might nuzzle at a bone. Chris saw Littimer join the other two
presently and fall in with their conversation. His laugh came to the
girl's ear more than once. It was quite evident that the eccentric
nobleman was enjoying the ex-convict's society. But Littimer had never
been fettered by conventional rules.

The dog-cart came up presently and Henson got out. He had an anxious,
worried look; there was an ugly frown between his brows. He contrived to
be polite as Chris emerged. He wanted to know where Littimer was.

"On the terrace, I fancy," Chris said, demurely.