uestionable. He
belongs to a firm which rules the trade of the East, and he must be
highly connected, or he would never have been admitted into partnership.
We must invite him here to some social function before he leaves. You
would like it, wouldn't you?"

"Yes," said Olive, "he's a most entertaining man. By all means let us
invite him."

Meanwhile Ricordo and Sprague walked back to The Homestead, and as they
walked they talked business. Sprague could not help feeling
astonishment at Ricordo's knowledge of English commercial life, and
entered into a discussion concerning its position and prospects with
great eagerness. By the time they reached the house, Sprague had
revealed to the stranger many particulars concerning his own relations
with the commercial world.

The next day, without having given any warning to any one concerning his
intention, Ricordo went to London, where he stayed several days. He had
retained his rooms at The Homestead, however, and told the lady who had
the management of it that he might return at any time. While in London,
his time seemed very fully occupied, and he had long interviews with men
occupying high positions in the commercial world. He also invested
largely, and took part in far-reaching transactions. At the end of a few
days he returned to Vale Linden again.

"It is simply a matter of time now," he said to himself, as the train
swept on towards the south. "I have my hands on all the strings, and I
have enveloped him as the proverbial spider envelops the proverbial fly.
Whatever he does, he cannot escape. As for her----"

He sat back in the railway carriage, and apparently fell into deep
thought. To the casual observer he seemed a prosperous Eastern
gentleman, one whose whole demeanour and appearance suggested a man of
rank and power. The close observer, however, would have detected a cruel
smile beneath his black moustache, while in his eyes he would have seen
a look that suggested dark deeds. The face would have impressed him with
the suggestion of an indomitable will, and of a kind of imperious pride,
but there was no suggestion of mercy or pity to be seen there.

When he arrived at Vale Linden, however, he had assumed his old manner
of cynical melancholy, and he met the people he knew with the easy grace
peculiar to him.

"We have missed you sorely," said Sprague, as he sat beside him at
dinner; "in fact, all of us have wondered where you have been."

"Ah, Signor Sprague