I heard the
dogs. You asked me----"

"About Major Harcourt's cottage. Do you know who has taken it?"

"I am not sure about the name. It is a foreign lady, and her
step-daughter, I believe. There is a clergy-man--or a Roman Catholic
priest, rather--too; but he may be only a visitor."

"Indeed!"

The monosyllable was expressive. Paul glanced at his companion with
slightly arched eyebrows. What had she heard? Something, evidently,
for there had been a coolness in her manner all the morning, and her
clear grey eyes were resting now upon the many gables of the cottage
just below them, with distinct disapproval. Now that he thought of it,
Paul remembered that a dogcart from the Castle had whirled past him as
he had turned out of the drive last night. Doubtless he had been seen
and recognised. Well! after all, what did it matter? The time when he
had meant to ask Lady May to be his wife seemed very far back in the
past now. Between that part of his life and now, there was a great
gulf fixed. Last night had altered everything!

He had certainly not meant to hunt that morning, but it had been
forced upon him. Quite early, Reynolds had come to his room to inquire
whether he should provide breakfast for thirty or fifty, and had
reminded him that the meet was in front of the Abbey. So, against his
will, Paul had been compelled to entertain the hunt and join in it
himself. Lady May had been specially invited to breakfast, but she had
not come, and Paul had only just seen her for the first time at the
cover side. She had greeted him coldly; and though they had somehow
taken up a position a little apart from the others, very few words
had passed between them. Her frank, delicate face was clouded, and her
manner was reserved.

"I believe my brother knows who they are," she continued, after a
short silence. "He saw them at the station."

Paul bit his lip, and turned away. The mystery of Lady May's manner
was explained now.

"Did he tell you, then?"

Lady May toyed with her whip, and then looked Paul straight in the
face. "Yes! he told me the name of the younger one. It is Adrea Kiros,
the dancing girl. Mr. de Vaux, may I ask you a question?"

"Certainly!"

Lady May looked straight between her horse's ears, and a slight flush
stole into her cheeks. "You must not think that I was listening; it
was not so at all. But last night, as I was passing the billiard-room,
I heard my brother and Captain Mortimer talking. They were co