ed, "I am standing where I can turn on the
light in a moment. If any one comes, you are here to see my South
American curios. This is my own sitting-room. You understand?"

"I understand," he assented. "Whatever you tell me to say, I will
say."

She seemed to be gathering courage. She laughed very softly, as
though amused at his earnestness. There was little enough of mirth
in her laughter, yet somehow it gave him heart.

"What do these men want?" he asked. "Would you like me to go out and
send them away?"

"No," she replied. "I do not wish you to leave me."

"But they are terrifying you," he protested. "What right have they
in your garden? They are here, perhaps, as thieves."

"Hush!"

She sprang away from him. The room was suddenly flooded with light.
She was leaning with her arm upon the mantelpiece, a statuette of
black ivory in her hand.

"If you are really fond of this sort of thing," she began, "you
should come with me to the South Kensington Museum one day--Who is
that?"

The door had opened. It was Mr. Weatherley who appeared. Mr.
Weatherley was distinctly fussy and there was some return of his
pompous manner.

"My dear Fenella!" he exclaimed. "What on earth are you doing in
here, with half your bridge tables as yet unarranged? Your guests
are wondering what has become of you."

"Has any one fresh turned up?" she asked, setting down the
statuette.

"A Lady Raynham has just arrived," Mr. Weatherley replied, "and is
making herself very disagreeable because there is no one to tell her
at which table she is to play. I heard a young man who came with
her, too, asking Parkins what time supper was. I do not wish to
criticize the manners of your guests, but really, my dear Fenella,
some of them do seem to have strange ideas."

"Lady Raynham," she remarked, coldly, "is a person who should be
glad to find herself under any respectable roof without making
complaints. Mr. Chetwode," she continued, turning to him, "it is my
wish to finish showing you my treasures. Therefore, will you wait
here, please, for a short time, while I go and start another bridge
table? I shall return quite soon. Come, Samuel."

Mr. Weatherley coughed. He seemed unwilling to leave Arnold behind.

"I dare say young Chetwode would like a hand at bridge himself, my
dear," he protested.

"Mr. Chetwode shall have one later on," she promised. "I think that
very likely he will play at my table. Come."

They left the room together.