n place in
the sphere that was fitted for him. At the period of this narrative
he was already a rich man, and one of the greatest authorities on
horse-breeding in England. His prosperity made no change in him. He was
always the same grave, quiet, obstinately resolute man--true to the few
friends whom he admitted to his intimacy, and sincere to a fault in the
expression of his feelings among persons whom he distrusted or disliked.
As he entered the picture-gallery and paused for a moment looking at
Felix on the sofa, his large, cold, steady gray eyes rested on the
little man with an indifference that just verged on contempt. Felix, on
the other hand, sprang to his feet with alert politeness and greeted his
friend with exuberant cordiality.

"Dear old boy! This is so good of you," he began. "I feel it--I do
assure you I feel it!"

"You needn't trouble yourself to feel it," was the quietly-ungracious
answer. "Lady Lydiard brings me here. I come to see the house--and the
dog." He looked round the gallery in his gravely attentive way. "I don't
understand pictures," he remarked resignedly. "I shall go back to the
drawing-room."

After a moment's consideration, Felix followed him into the
drawing-room, with the air of a man who was determined not to be
repelled.

"Well?" asked Hardyman. "What is it?"

"About that matter?" Felix said, inquiringly.

"What matter?"

"Oh, you know. Will next week do?"

"Next week _won't_ do."

Mr. Felix Sweetsir cast one look at his friend. His friend was too
intently occupied with the decorations of the drawing-room to notice the
look.

"Will to-morrow do?" Felix resumed, after an interval.

"Yes."

"At what time?"

"Between twelve and one in the afternoon."

"Between twelve and one in the afternoon," Felix repeated. He looked
again at Hardyman and took his hat. "Make my apologies to my aunt," he
said. "You must introduce yourself to her Ladyship. I can't wait here
any longer." He walked out of the room, having deliberately returned the
contemptuous indifference of Hardyman by a similar indifference on his
own side, at parting.

Left by himself, Hardyman took a chair and glanced at the door which led
into the boudoir. The steward had knocked at that door, had disappeared
through it, and had not appeared again. How much longer was Lady
Lydiard's visitor to be left unnoticed in Lady Lydiard's house?

As the question passed through his mind the boudoir door opened. For
once i