ejudiced eye. In any event, I should be
compelled to go slow in analyzing Mrs. Devar's motives, and this
pertinacious Marigny seems to have been fairly intimate with him in
Paris. Yes, on the whole, it is just as well that I missed him.
Cynthia can put matters before him in a better light than is possible
to one who is an utter stranger. I must tell her, in my best American,
that it is up to her to explain Fitzroy to pap."

Before leaving the hotel he inquired for Count Edouard Marigny. He
drew a blank there. No such name had been registered during the year.

The dinner passed without noteworthy incident. Sir Ashley Stoke
condemned the Government, the Marquis of Scarland was more than
skeptical as to the prospects of grouse shooting after the deluge in
April and May, Lord Fairholme growled at the pernicious effects of
the Ground Game Act, and Medenham spoke of these things with his
lips but in his heart thought of Cynthia. The four men were in the
smoking-room, and the Earl was chaffing his son on account of his
inability to play bridge, when Tomkinson entered. He approached
Medenham.

"Dale has arrived; he wishes to see your lordship," he said in a stage
whisper.

"Dale!"

The young man sprang to his feet, and his troubled cry brought a smile
of wonderment to his brother-in-law's face.

"By Jove!" said the Marquis, "you couldn't have jumped quicker if
Tomkinson had said 'the devil' instead of 'Dale.' Who, then, is Dale?"

Medenham hurried from the room without another word. The Earl shook
his head.

"More mischief!" he muttered. "Dale is George's chauffeur. I suppose
he is mixed up in this Vanrenen muddle again."

"What muddle is that?" asked Scarland. "Is George in it?--that would
be unusual."

Fairholme suddenly bethought himself.

"Something to do with a motor," he said vaguely. "The Vanrenens are
Americans, friends of Mrs. Leland's. You remember her, Arthur, don't
you?"

"Perfectly. Is 'Vanrenen' the Peter of that ilk?"

"I think so. Yes--that is the name--Peter Vanrenen."

"Oh, _he's_ all right. If George has any dispute with him I'll settle
it in a minute. He is as straight as they make 'em--bought two of my
prize bulls three years ago for his ranch in Montana. By the way,
someone told me the other day that he has a very pretty daughter--'a
real peach' the man said. Wonder if George has seen her? Begad, he
might go farther and fare worse. We effete aristocrats can do with a
strain of new blood