lfully skeptical of during many weary hours. But polite usage
called for an introduction, and Mrs. Leland and Mrs. Devar eyed each
other warily, with the smiles of convention.

Mrs. Leland glanced at Dale.

"And who is this?" she asked, seizing the opportunity to settle a
point that was perplexing her strangely.

"Our chauffeur," said Cynthia, and a glint of fun showed through the
wanness of her cheeks.

"But not--not----"

Even smooth-tongued Mrs. Leland was at a loss.

"Not Fitzroy, who left us a minute ago. This man's name is Dale. One
wonders, though, how you knew--why you doubted," cried Cynthia in
sharp discernment.

"Pray why did Fitzroy leave you a minute ago?" was all that the other
woman could find to say.

"He had to return to London. But, there--it is I who ought to
ask questions. Let us go inside. I want to get some of the grit
out of my eyes and hair; then I shall become an absolute mark of
interrogation--so I warn you. Of course, I am delighted to see you;
but queer things have happened, and I am pining to have them cleared
up. When did you see father last? Is he still in London?"

Mrs. Leland answered, with freer speech now, but in her heart she was
saddened by Medenham's duplicity. Six months earlier he and the Earl
had dined at the villa she was occupying at San Remo for the winter.
She then took a great liking to him on account of his shy and reticent
but singularly pleasing manners. She was prepared to laugh at the
present escapade when she had discussed it with him that night. Now
he had fled, doubtless through fear. That was bad. That looked ugly
and mean. Most certainly Peter Vanrenen had acted rightly in bringing
her post-haste from Trouville. She must use all her skill if mischief
were to be avoided.

CHAPTER XIII

WHEREIN WRATH BEGUILES GOOD JUDGMENT

"Good-mornin', George."

"Good-morning, dad."

"Enjoy your run to Hereford?"

"Immensely. Did you?"

"It was not so bad. Rather tiresome, you know, travelin' alone, but on
the return journey I fell in with a decent sort of Frenchman who
helped to pass the time."

"Monsieur Marigny, in fact?"

"Ah, you know him, of course. I had forgotten."

"I have met him. He is not the kind of person I care to know."

The Earl selected an egg, tapped it, and asked his son what he thought
of the crops--did they want rain? The two were breakfasting alone--at
the moment there was not even a man-servant in the room--but Lord
Fair