e again within call of Angela, and as though he
had never sat hand in hand with Mildred Carr.

CHAPTER XLIV

At breakfast on the following morning Arthur, as he had anticipated,
met the Bellamys. Sir John came down first, arrayed in true English
fashion, in a tourist suit of grey, and presently Lady Bellamy
followed. As she entered, dressed in trailing white, and walked slowly
up the long table, every eye was turned upon her, for she was one of
those women who attract attention as surely and unconsciously as a
magnet attracts iron. Arthur, looking with the rest, thought that he
had never seen a stranger, or at the same time a more imposing-
looking, woman. Time had not yet touched her beauty or impaired her
vigorous constitution, and at forty she was still at the zenith of her
charms. The dark hair, that threw out glinting lights of copper when
the sun struck it, still curled in its clustering ringlets and showed
no line of grey, while the mysterious, heavy-lidded eyes and the coral
lips were as full of rich life and beauty as they had been when she
and Hilda von Holtzhausen first met at Rewtham House.

On her face, too, was the same expression of quiet power, of conscious
superiority and calm command, that had always distinguished it. Arthur
tried to think what it reminded him of, and remembered that the same
look was to be seen upon the stone features of some of the Egyptian
statues in Mildred's museum.

"How splendid Lady Bellamy looks!" he said, almost unconsciously, to
his neighbour.

Sir John did not answer; and Arthur, glancing up to learn the reason,
saw that he also was watching the approach of his wife, and that his
face was contorted with a sudden spasm of intense malice and hatred,
whilst his little, pig-like eyes glittered threateningly. He had not
even heard the remark. Arthur would have liked to whistle; he had
surprised a secret.

"How do you do, Mr. Heigham? I hope that you are not bruised after
your tumble yesterday. Good morning, John."

Arthur rose and shook hands.

"I never was more surprised in my life," he said, "than when I saw you
and Sir John at the top of the street there. May I ask what brought
you to Madeira?"

"Health, sir, health," answered the little man. "Cough, catarrh,
influenza, and all that's damn----ah! infernal!"

"My husband, Mr. Heigham," struck in Lady Bellamy, in her full, rich
tones, "had a severe threatening of chest disease, and