tion being that his
lordship's chauffeur was careering through England in a valuable car
without a shred of permission; the merest whisper to Cynthia of this
discovery, said the Frenchman, would send "Fitzroy" packing.

And again, what had Cynthia meant when she referred at Chepstow to the
"Norman baron scowl" with which "Fitzroy" had favored Marigny? Was
she, too, in the secret? Unhappy Mrs. Devar! She glowered at the
darkening Wye, and wriggled on her chair in torture.

"Wass it all right a-bout the tel-e-phone, mam?" said a soft voice at
her ear.

She started violently, and the maid was contrite.

"I'm ver-ry sor-ry, mam," she said, "but I see Mr. Fitz-roy down there
on the riv-er----"

"Where, where?" cried the other, rather to gain time to collect her
wits than to ascertain Medenham's whereabouts.

The girl pointed.

"In that lit-tle boat, all by its-self, mam," she said.

"Oh, it was of no importance. By the way," and Mrs. Devar produced her
purse, "you might tell the people in the office not to pay any
attention to the statements of a man named Dale, if he rings up from
Hereford. He is only a chauffeur, and we shall see him in the morning;
perhaps it will be best, if he asks for Fitzroy again to-night, to
tell him to await our arrival."

"Yess, mam," and the maid went off, the richer by half-a-crown. Mrs.
Devar's usual "tip" was a sixpence for a week's attentions, so it
would demand an abstruse arithmetical calculation to arrive at an
exact estimate of the degree of mental disturbance that led to the
present lack of proportion.

Left alone once more, her gaze followed a small skiff speeding
upstream over the placid surface of the silvery Wye; Medenham was
rowing, and Cynthia held the tiller ropes; but Mrs. Devar's thoughts
turned her mind's eyes inward, and they surveyed a gray prospect.
Dale, the unseen monster who had struck this paralyzing blow, spoke of
"the Frenchman." Lord Fairholme had charged both Dale and "the
Frenchman" with tricking him. Therefore, the Earl and Marigny had met
at Bristol. If so, and there could be little doubt of it, Marigny
would hardly appear in Hereford, and if she attempted to telephone to
the Green Dragon Hotel, where Cynthia had engaged rooms, she would not
only fail to reach Marigny but probably reveal to a wrathful Earl the
very fact which Dale seemed to have withheld from him, namely, his
son's address at the moment.

She assumed that Dale knew how to communicat