d breathing deeply, all the mad
blood in him racing at fever speed through his veins, burning to follow
up the attack but conscious that he could not do so. For the man who
leaned there facing him was old--a bitter fact which neither had
realized until that moment--too old to fight, too old to thrash.

Noel swung round and turned his back upon him, utterly disgusted with
the situation. He picked up his riding-whip with a savage gesture and
stared at it with fierce regret. It was a serviceable weapon. He could
have done good work with it--on a younger man.

Hunt-Goring made a sudden movement, and he wheeled back. The livid look
had gone from the man's face. He stood upright, and spat the cigarette
from his lips. His eyes had drooped again, showing only a malicious
glint between the lids. Yet there was something about him even then that
made Noel aware that he was very near the end of his strength.

He was on the verge of speaking when there came the sudden rush of
Peggy's eager feet, and she darted out upon the verandah, and raced to
Noel with a squeal of delight.

Noel caught her in his arms. He had never been more pleased to see her.
He did not look at Hunt-Goring again, and the words on Hunt-Goring's
lips remained unspoken.

"Let's go! Let's go!" cried Peggy.

And Noel turned as if the atmosphere had suddenly become poisonous, and
bore her swiftly away.

A few seconds later, Daisy, running out to see the start, came upon
Hunt-Goring upright and motionless upon the verandah, and was somewhat
surprised by the rigidity of his attitude. He relaxed almost at once,
however, and sat down in his usual corner.

"I had no idea Noel was here," she said. "Has he been waiting long?"

"Not long," said Hunt-Goring. "I have been entertaining him."

"Isn't he a nice boy?" said Daisy impetuously. "Look at him in the
saddle--so splendidly young and free!"

Hunt-Goring was silent a moment. Then, as he took out his
cigarette-case, he remarked: "He is so altogether charming, Mrs.
Musgrave, that I can't help thinking that he must be one of those
fortunate people 'whom the gods love.'"

"But what a horrid thing to say!" protested Daisy. "I'm sure Noel won't
die young. He is so full of vitality. He couldn't!"

Hunt-Goring smiled upon his cigarettes. "I wonder," he said slowly, and
chose one with the words. "I--wonder!"

CHAPTER XX

THE POWER OF THE ENEMY

It so chanced that Noel did not find himself in any intimate