table, although eager to accept the most casually offered
invitation to Thorpe, he had always the idea that the most commonplace
remark contained an innuendo purposely concealed from him.

"Mr. Deyes," he remarked, "looks mysterious."

Deyes glanced at him through his eyeglass.

"It is a subtle neighbourhood," he said. "By the bye, Mr. Hurd, have you
ever seen the rose gardens at Carrow?"

"Never," Hurd replied enviously. "I have heard that they are very
beautiful."

Wilhelmina passed out.

"The gardens are beautiful," she said, looking back, "but the roses are
like all other roses, they fade quickly. Till five o'clock, all of you!"

CHAPTER IX

SUMMER LIGHTNING

Stephen Hurd walked into the room which he and his father shared as a
sanctum, half office, half study. Mr. Hurd, senior, was attired in his
conventional Sabbath garb, the same black coat of hard, dull material,
and dark grey trousers, in which he had attended church for more years
than many of the villagers could remember. Stephen, on the other hand,
was attired in evening clothes of the latest cut. His white waistcoat
had come from a London tailor, and his white tie had cost him
considerable pains. His father looked him over with expressionless face.

"You are going to the House again, Stephen?" he asked calmly.

"I am asked to dine there, father," he answered. "Sorry to leave you
alone."

"I have no objection to being alone," Mr. Hurd answered. "I think that
you know that. You lunched there, didn't you?"

Stephen nodded.

"Miss Thorpe-Hatton asked me as we came out of church," he answered.

"You play cards?"

The directness of the question allowed of no evasion. Stephen flushed as
he answered.

"They play bridge. I may be asked to join. It--is a sort of whist, you
know."

"So I understand," the older man remarked. "I have no remark to make
concerning that. Manners change, I suppose, with the generations. You
are young and I am old. I have never sought to impose my prejudices upon
you. You have seen more of the world than I ever did. Perhaps you have
found wisdom there."

Stephen was not at his ease.

"I don't know about that, sir," he answered. "Of course, Sunday isn't
kept so strictly as it used to be. I like a quiet day myself, but it's
pretty dull here usually, and I didn't think it would be wise to refuse
an invitation from Miss Thorpe-Hatton."

"Perhaps not," Mr. Hurd answered. "On the other hand, I might remind you