o his feet a moment previously and now extended his
hand. The Duchess, who was a tall, graceful woman, with masses of fair
hair only faintly interspersed with gray, very fine brown eyes, the
complexion of a girl, and, to quite her own confession, the manners of a
kitchen maid, stared at him for a moment without any response.

"Sir Everard Dominey?" she repeated. "Everard? Ridiculous!"

Dominey's extended hand was at once withdrawn, and the tentative smile
faded from his lips. The lawyer plunged into the breach.

"I can assure your Grace," he insisted earnestly, "that there is no
doubt whatever about Sir Everard's identity. He only returned from
Africa during the last few days."

The Duchess's incredulity remained, wholly good-natured but ministered
to by her natural obstinacy.

"I simply cannot bring myself to believe it," she declared. "Come, I'll
challenge you. When did we meet last?"

"At Worcester House," was the prompt reply. "I came to say good-bye to
you."

The Duchess was a little staggered. Her eyes softened, a faint smile
played at the corners of her lips. She was suddenly a very attractive
looking woman.

"You came to say good-bye," she repeated, "and?"

"I am to take that as a challenge?" Dominey asked, standing very upright
and looking her in the eyes.

"As you will."

"You were a little kinder to me," he continued, "than you are to-day.
You gave me--this," he added, drawing a small picture from his
pocketbook, "and you permitted--"

"For heaven's sake, put that thing away," she cried, "and don't say
another word! There's my grown-up nephew, St. Omar, paying his
bill almost within earshot. Come and see me at half-past three this
afternoon, and don't be a minute late. And, St. Omar," she went
on, turning to the young man who stood now by her side, "this is a
connection of yours--Sir Everard Dominey. He is a terrible person, but
do shake hands with him and come along. I am half an hour late for my
dressmaker already."

Lord St. Omar chuckled vaguely, then shook hands with his new-found
relative, nodded affably to the lawyer and followed his aunt out of the
room. Mangan's expression was beatific.

"Sir Everard," he exclaimed, "God bless you! If ever a woman got what
she deserved! I've seen a duchess blush--first time in my life!"

CHAPTER V

Worcester House was one of those semi-palatial residences set down
apparently for no reason whatever in the middle of Regent's Park. It had
been