ght so."

Eugene had got over his annoyance. A sudden thought seemed to strike
him.

"I say, does Claudia know?"

"Rickmansworth's sure to have told her on the spot. She must have known
it a month; and what's more, she must think you've known it a month."

"Inference that the sooner I show up the better."

"Exactly. What, are you off now? Do you know where she is?"

"I shall send a wire to Territon Park. Rick's sure to be there if she
isn't, and I'll go down and find out about it."

"Wait a minute, will you? Have you heard from your friend Stafford
lately?"

A shadow fell on Eugene's face.

"No. But that's over. Must be, or he'd never have bolted from
Millstead."

Ayre was silent a moment. Morewood's letter told him that Stafford had
set out to go to Claudia. What if he and Eugene met? Ayre had not much
faith in the power of friendship under such circumstances.

"I think, on the whole, that I'd better show you a letter I've had," he
said. "Mind you, I take no responsibility for what you do."

"Nobody wants you to," said Eugene, with a smile. "We all understand
that's your position."

Ayre flung the letter over to him and he read it.

"Oh, by Jove, this is the devil!" he exclaimed, jumping off the
writing-table, where he had seated himself.

"So Morewood seems to think."

"Poor old fellow! I say, what shall I do? Poor old Stafford! Fancy his
cutting up like this."

"It's kind of you to pity him."

"What do you mean? I say, Ayre, you don't think there is anything in
it?"

"Anything in it?"

"You don't think there's any chance that Claudia likes him?"

"Haven't an idea one way or the other," said Ayre rather disingenuously.

Eugene looked very perturbed.

"You see," continued Ayre, "it's pretty cool of you to assume the girl
is in love with you when she knew you were engaged to somebody else up
to a month ago."

"Oh, damn it, yes!" groaned Eugene; "but she knew old Stafford had sworn
not to marry anybody."

"And she knew--of course she knew--you both wanted to marry her. I
wonder what she thought of both of you!"

"She never had any idea of the sort about him. About me she may have had
an inkling."

"Just an inkling, perhaps," assented Sir Roderick.

"The worst of it is, you know, if she does like me I shall feel a brute,
cutting in now. Old Stafford knew I was engaged too, you know."

"It all serves you right," observed Ayre comfortingly. "If you must get
engaged at all, why the deu