glad of that," said the Duke. "It isn't really worth noticing."

He drew the envelopes and unused cards into a packet, and handed them
to her.

"There!" he said, with a smile. "That won't be too heavy for you."

"Thank you," said Sonia, taking it from him.

"Shall I carry them for you?" said the Duke.

"No, thank you, your Grace," said Sonia.

With a quick, careless, almost irresponsible movement, he caught her
hand, bent down, and kissed it. A great wave of rosy colour flowed over
her face, flooding its whiteness to her hair and throat. She stood for
a moment turned to stone; she put her hand to her heart. Then on hasty,
faltering feet she went to the door, opened it, paused on the
threshold, turned and looked back at him, and vanished.

CHAPTER V

A LETTER FROM LUPIN

The Duke stood for a while staring thoughtfully at the door through
which Sonia had passed, a faint smile playing round his lips. He
crossed the hall to the Chippendale bureau, took a cigarette from a box
which stood on the ledge of it, beside the morocco case which held the
pendant, lighted it, and went slowly out on to the terrace. He crossed
it slowly, paused for a moment on the edge of it, and looked across the
stretch of country with musing eyes, which saw nothing of its beauty.
Then he turned to the right, went down a flight of steps to the lower
terrace, crossed the lawn, and took a narrow path which led into the
heart of a shrubbery of tall deodoras. In the middle of it he came to
one of those old stone benches, moss-covered and weather-stained, which
adorn the gardens of so many French chateaux. It faced a marble basin
from which rose the slender column of a pattering fountain. The figure
of a Cupid danced joyously on a tall pedestal to the right of the
basin. The Duke sat down on the bench, and was still, with that rare
stillness which only comes of nerves in perfect harmony, his brow
knitted in careful thought. Now and again the frown cleared from his
face, and his intent features relaxed into a faint smile, a smile of
pleasant memory. Once he rose, walked round the fountains frowning,
came back to the bench, and sat down again. The early September dusk
was upon him when at last he rose and with quick steps took his way
through the shrubbery, with the air of a man whose mind, for good or
ill, was at last made up.

When he came on to the upper terrace his eyes fell on a group which
stood at the further corner, near the entra