He nodded to me; he did not offer to
shake hands again.

"I'll come and see you off to-morrow morning. The eleven-five, I
suppose?" That was the fast train to London.

"Yes. All right, I shall be glad to see you. To Lord Lacey--and his
friends--this is good-by."

"You're going away?" asked Lacey, joy and relief plain in his voice.

"Yes. You seem very glad."

"I am glad," said young Lacey, "but I mean no offense, Mr. Octon."

Their eyes met fair and square. I expected an angry outburst from Octon,
but none came; his look was moody again, but it was not fierce. He
looked restless and unhappy, but he spoke with dignity.

"I recognize that. I take no offense. Good-by, Lord Lacey." With a
slight lift of his hat, courteously responded to by Lacey, he turned his
back on us and walked away with his heavy slouching gait, his head sunk
low on his shoulders. We watched him go for a moment or two in silence.

"Is he going for good?" Lacey asked me.

"Yes, to-morrow."

He seemed to consider something within himself. "Then I don't know that
I really need trouble you. It's a delicate matter and--" He beat his leg
with his crop, frowning thoughtfully. "I wonder, Austin, whether you're
aware how matters stand between Miss Driver and my father?" His use of
"my father" instead of "the governor" was a significant mark of his
seriousness.

"Yes, she told me."

"My father told me. To-morrow is the day for the announcement. Austin,
the last two or three days my father has been very worried and upset.
Aunt Sarah's been at him about something. I'm sure it's about--about
Miss Driver. I can tell it is by the way they both look when her name's
mentioned. And I--I tried an experiment. At lunch to-day I began to talk
about that fellow Powers. I tried it on by saying I thought he was a
scoundrel and that I hoped Miss Driver would give him the sack. I never
saw a man look up with such a start as my father did. Aunt Sarah was
ready to be on to me, but he was too quick. 'Why do you say that?' he
snapped out--eagerly, you know--as if he was uncommonly anxious to hear
my reasons. Well, of course, I'd none to give, only my impressions of
the chap. Aunt Sarah looked triumphant and read me a lecture on envy,
malice, and all uncharitableness. My father sat staring at the
tablecloth, but listening hard to every word. Why the devil should my
father be so interested in Powers? Can you tell me that, Austin?"

"No, I can't tell you," I said, "but