rt."

"My darling!" he cried, clasping her thumb impulsively. "Then we are
affianced."

He slipped a ring off his finger and fitted it affectionately on two of
hers.

"Wear this," he said gravely. "It was my mother's. She was a de
Dindigul. See, this is their crest--a roe-less herring over the motto
_Dans l'huile_." Observing that she looked puzzled he translated the
noble French words to her. "And now let us go in. Another dance is
beginning. May I beg for the honour?"

"Beltravers," she whispered lovingly.

CHAPTER IV

EXPOSURE

The next dance was at its height. In a dream of happiness Gwendolen
revolved with closed eyes round Lord Beltravers, of Beltravers Castle,
Beltravers.

Suddenly above the music rose a voice, commanding, threatening.

"Stop!" cried the Lady Beltravers.

As if by magic the band ceased and all the dancers were still.

"There is an intruder here," said Lady Beltravers in a cold voice. "A
milkmaid, a common farmer's daughter. Gwendolen French, leave my house
this instant!"

Dazed, hardly knowing what she did, Gwendolen moved forward. In an
instant Lord Beltravers was after her.

"No, mother," he said, with the utmost dignity. "Not a common milkmaid,
but the future Lady Beltravers."

An indescribable thrill of emotion ran through the crowded ball-room.
Lord Hobble's stud fell out; and Lady Susan Golightly hurried across the
room and fainted in the arms of Sir James Batt.

"What!" cried the Lady Beltravers. "My son, the last of the
Beltraverses, the Beltraverses who came over with Julius Wernher, I
should say Caesar, marry a milkmaid?"

"No, mother. He is marrying what any man would be proud to marry--a
simple English girl."

There was a cheer, instantly suppressed, from a Socialist in the band.

For just a moment words failed the Lady Beltravers. Then she sank into a
chair, and waved her guests away.

"The ball is over," she said slowly. "Leave me. My son and I must be
alone."

One by one, with murmured thanks for a delightful evening, the guests
trooped out. Soon mother and son were alone. Lord Beltravers, gazing out
of the window, saw the 'cellist laboriously dragging his 'cello across
the park.

CHAPTER V

THE END

[And now, dear readers, I am in a difficulty. How shall the story go on?
The editor of _The Seaside Library_ asks quite frankly for a murder. His
idea was that the Lady Beltravers should be found dead in the park next
morning and that Gwendolen sho