he cocktails.

"Everything is in order. I wonder, really," Sir Timothy went on, looking
at Francis curiously, "what you expect to see?"

"I don't think we any of us have any definite idea," Francis replied.
"We have all, of course, made our guesses."

"You will probably be disappointed," Sir Timothy warned him. "For some
reason or other--perhaps I have encouraged the idea--people look upon
my parties as mysterious orgies where things take place which may not
be spoken of. They are right to some extent. I break the law, without a
doubt, but I break it, I am afraid, in rather a disappointing fashion."

A limousine covered in dust raced in at the open gates and came to a
standstill with a grinding of brakes. Lady Cynthia stepped lightly out
and came across the lawn to them.

"I am hot and dusty and I was disagreeable," she confided, "but the
peace of this wonderful place, and the sight of that beautiful silver
thing have cheered me. May I have a cocktail before I go up to change?
I am a little late, I know," she went on, "but that wretched
garden-party! I thought my turn would never come to receive my few
words. Mother would have been broken-hearted if I had left without them.
What slaves we are to royalty! Now shall I hurry and change? You men
have the air of wanting your dinner, and I am rather that way myself.
You look tired, dear host," she added, a little hesitatingly.

"The heat," he answered.

"Why you ever leave this spot I can't imagine," she declared, as she
turned away, with a lingering glance around. "It seems like Paradise to
come here and breathe this air. London is like a furnace."

The two men were alone again. In Francis' pocket were the two documents,
which he had not yet made up his mind how to use. Margaret came out to
them presently, and he strolled away with her towards the rose garden.

"Margaret," he said, "is it my fancy or has there been a change in your
father during the last few days?"

"There is a change of some sort," she admitted. "I cannot describe it. I
only know it is there. He seems much more thoughtful and less hard. The
change would be an improvement," she went on, "except that somehow or
other it makes me feel uneasy. It is as though he were grappling with
some crisis."

They came to a standstill at the end of the pergola, where the masses
of drooping roses made the air almost faint with their perfume. Margaret
stretched out her hand, plucked a handful of the creamy petals