have waited for
just such an opportunity as this."

He was by far the calmest of the four. Ronador's violent temper was
rapidly routing his studied composure. Diane's lovely face was flushed
and indignant. Aunt Agatha, making a desperate pretense of sorting the
lilies, was plainly in a flutter and willing to be tearfully repentent
over their intrusion. Not so Philip. There was satisfaction in his
steady glance.

"There is scarcely any business which I may have with--er--Tregar's
secretary," said Ronador with deliberate insolence, "which may not be
more suitably discharged by Tregar himself."

There was a biting suggestion of rank in his answer at which Philip
smiled.

"My spread-eagle tastes," he admitted, "have always protected my eyes
from the bedazzlement frequently incident to the sight of royalty. Nor
do I wish to flaunt unduly my excellent fortune in being born an
American and a democrat, but for once. Prince, we must overlook your
trifling disadvantage of caste and meet on a common footing. Permit me
to offer my humble secretarial apology that the business is wholly
mine--and one other's--and not my chief's."

Here Aunt Agatha created a singular diversion by dropping the lilies
and gurgling with amazement.

"God bless my soul!" she screamed hysterically, conscious that her
indiscretion was rapidly weaving a web around her which might not find
favor in her niece's eyes, "it's Baron Tregar! I know his beard."

Now as it was manifestly impossible for the Baron and his beard to be
secreted among the lilies which Aunt Agatha was wildly gathering up,
Philip looked off in the wood to the north.

There was a motorcyclist approaching who had conceivably felt
sufficient interest in the long black car to follow it.

The Baron arrived, gallantly swept off his cap and bowed, and suddenly
conscious of an indefinable hostility in the attitudes of the silent
quartet, stared from one to the other with some pardonable astonishment.

"Tregar!" shouted the Prince hotly, "you will account to me for this
officious espionage."

The Baron stroked his beard.

"One may pay his respects to Miss Westfall?" he begged with gentle
sarcasm. "It is a sufficiently popular epidemic, I should say, to
claim even me. Besides," he added dryly, "in reality I have come in
answer to a letter of Poynter's. It has interested me exceedingly to
find you on the road ahead of me."

"Baron Tregar," said Diane warmly, "you are very w