his host's lead and rose.

"Get that maggot out of your brain, Andrew," he exclaimed, "as quickly
as possible. Will you take my arm? Mind the corner."

They found the drawing-room almost deserted. Runton raised his eyeglass
and looked around.

"I bet those women have collared the billiard table," he remarked. "Come
along, you fellows."

They re-crossed the hall and entered the billiard-room. Lady Runton was
playing with the Lord Lieutenant's wife, the Countess of Appleton. The
others were all sitting about, either on the lounge or in the winter
garden beyond. Miss Fielding was standing on the threshold, and
Duncombe advanced eagerly towards her. On the way, however, he was
buttonholed by an acquaintance, and the master of the hounds had
something to say to him afterwards about one of his covers. When he was
free, Miss Fielding had disappeared. He made his way into the winter
garden, only to find her sitting in a secluded corner with the Baron.
She looked up at his entrance, but made no sign. Duncombe reluctantly
re-entered the billiard-room, and was captured by his host for a rubber
of bridge.

The rubber was a long one. Duncombe played badly and lost his money.
Declining to cut in again, he returned to the winter garden. Miss
Fielding and the Baron were still together, only they had now pushed
their chairs a little further back, and were apparently engaged in a
very confidential conversation. Duncombe turned on his heel and
re-entered the billiard-room.

It was not until the party broke up that he found a chance of speaking
to her. He was sensible at once of a change in her manner. She would
have passed him with a little nod, but he barred her way.

"You have treated me shockingly," he declared, with a smile which was a
little forced. "You promised to let me show you the winter garden."

"Did I?" she answered. "I am so sorry. I must have forgotten all about
it. The Baron has been entertaining me delightfully. Good night!"

He half stood aside.

"I haven't by any chance offended you, have I?" he asked in a low tone.

She raised her eyebrows.

"Certainly not!" she answered. "Excuse me, won't you? I want to speak
to Lady Runton before she goes upstairs."

Duncombe stood on one side and let her pass with a stiff bow. As he
raised his eyes he saw that Mr. Fielding was standing within a few feet
of him, smoking a cigarette. He might almost have overheard their
conversation.

"Good night, Mr. Fielding," he