d achieved something more than national fame.
Fairfield as a fertile writer on ethnography and travel; and Grell
equally as a daring explorer, and as a man who had made his mark in the
politics and finance of the United States. More than once he had been
employed on delicate diplomatic missions for his Government, and always
he had succeeded. Great things were within his reach when he had
suddenly announced his intention of giving up business, politics and
travel to settle in England and lead the life of a gentleman of leisure.
He had bought a thousand acres in Sussex, and rented a town house in
Grosvenor Gardens.

Then he had met Lady Eileen Meredith, daughter of the Duke of Burghley.
Like others, he had fallen a victim to her grey eyes. The piquant
beauty, the supple grace, the intangible charm of the girl had aroused
his desire. A man who always achieved his ends, he set himself to woo
and win her with fierce impetuosity. He had won. Now he was spending his
last night of bachelordom at his club.

A man of about forty-five, he carried himself well and the evening dress
he wore showed his upright muscular figure to advantage. Every movement
he made had a swift grace that reminded one irresistibly of a tiger,
with its suggestion of reserve force. His close-cropped hair and a
drooping moustache were prematurely grey. He had a trick of looking at
one through half-closed eyelids that gave the totally erroneous
impression that he was half asleep. The face was square, the chin
dogged, the lips, half-hidden by the moustache, thin and tightly pressed
together. He was the type of man who emerges victor in any contest,
whether of wits or muscle. Plain and direct when it suited his purpose;
subtle master of intrigue when subtlety was needed.

A nervous gust of wind flung the rain fiercely against the window. Sir
Ralph Fairfield uncrossed his knees with care for the scrupulous crease
in his trousers.

"You're a great man, Bob," he said slowly. "You take it quite as a
matter of course that you should win the prettiest girl in the three
kingdoms." His voice became meditative. "I wonder how married life will
suit you. You know, you're not altogether the type of a man one
associates with the domestic hearthstone."

Their eyes met. The twinkle of humour which was in the baronet's did not
reflect itself in the other's. Grell, too, was wondering whether he was
fitted for domestic life. He had a taste for introspection, and was
spec