e of the two households in paying a
visit to Canterbury. Under Mrs. Delarayne's vigilant eye, Leonetta and
Denis Malster had therefore been very discreet, and as the cars returned
in the evening, Sir Joseph was firmly of the opinion that his idol had,
with her customary art, slightly exaggerated the attentions which his
private secretary was paying to her younger daughter.

Dinner at Brineweald Park was over, the younger people, except
Cleopatra, who had gone to bed, had dispersed themselves over the
grounds as usual and Mrs. Delarayne, Miss Mallowcoid, and Sir Joseph
were sitting on the terrace finishing their coffee, when Sir Joseph's
head chauffeur was seen walking towards the steps with his junior,
bearing Lord Henry's Gladstone bag and suit-case.

"Where did you leave Lord Henry?" Mrs. Delarayne cried.

"He told me to drive straight to the garage, ma'am," replied the man,
"and bring the luggage here by hand."

"Yes," Sir Joseph exclaimed, in the bullying tones he usually adopted
with his servants; "but can't you answer a question? Where did you leave
his lordship?"

"He left the car at the Brineweald Gate," the man answered, "and said he
would take a walk in the grounds, sir."

"Oh, that's all right!" Mrs. Delarayne remarked, and the men moved on
with their load.

It was twilight. The lady scanned the stretch of park that lay before
her, and discovering no sign of life, turned to Sir Joseph.

"I hope he will find his way," she said.

"Couldn't possibly help it, I should have thought," snapped Miss
Mallowcoid.

"Oh, but he's so tiresome sometimes," replied the widow. "He's so
incorrigibly absent-minded."

Brineweald Park was one of the largest in the whole of the West Kent
districts. Its confines stretched to the straggling outskirts of four
villages: Brineweald to the south-west, Hedlinge to the north,
Headstone to the east, and Sandlewood to the south-east. Paths cutting
diagonally through the Park, at a respectful distance from the house,
joined all these outlying places one to another, and the inhabitants of
all four villages were allowed a right of way, provided they conducted
themselves with due propriety and did no damage. It was a favourite
recreation ground for the children of the locality, but it was so vast
that it was but seldom a stranger was ever encountered in the grounds.

The house, which was a large white building, three stories high, of
Georgian design, stood on an eminence overlook