What does that little cad
mean by watching me as he does?"

He smiled pleasantly, though, all the while, and when, to pass the time
away, and conceal his trouble, Trevor once more proposed cards, the
captain condescended to take "that little cad" as his partner, and
between them they won fifty pounds of Trevor and Sir Felix--the latter
throwing the cards petulantly down, and vowing he would play no more.

"Good night, dear boy," said Vanleigh, rising and yawning a few minutes
after smilingly taking his winnings. "It's past one, and we shall be
having our respected friend, Mrs Lloyd, to send us to bed."

A sharp retort was on Trevor's lip, but he checked it, and with a
courtesy that was grave in spite of his efforts, wished him good night,
saying--

"There is no fear of that; Mrs Lloyd and I understand each other pretty
well now."

"Ya-as, exactly," said Vanleigh; and he went out whistling softly.

"Good night, Trevor," said Sir Felix, in turn. "'Fraid we're doocid bad
comp'ny. Too bad, I'm sure, going 'way as we do."

"Good night, Flick," said Trevor, smiling; and then, as the door closed,
he turned to find Pratt leaning against the chimneypiece, counting over
his winnings. "Well, my lad!" continued Trevor, trying to be gay.

"Twenty-five pounds, Dick," said Pratt, laying the money on the table.
"I shan't take that."

"Nonsense, man," said Trevor; "keep it till Van wins it back. But
what's the matter? Have you found another of your mare's-nests?"

"I was thinking, Dick," said Pratt, gravely, "that you must be very
sorry you asked any of us here."

Trevor's lips parted to speak; but without a word he wrung his friend's
hand, took his candle, and hastily left the room.

Volume 2, Chapter XIII.

BEFORE DINNER.

It was a busy day at Tolcarne, that of the dinner party. The picnic had
not been a success. In fact, at one time, when very much bored by the
attentions of Vanleigh, Tiny had gazed out to sea at a pretty little
yacht gliding by, and longed to be on board--innocent, poor girl! of the
fact that Dick Trevor was lying on the deck with a powerful lorgnette,
seeing the party distinctly, and plainly making out the captain leaning
on the rock by her side.

Fin, too, was no wiser--though, for quite a quarter of an hour Frank
Pratt was gazing, with knitted brow, through a second lorgnette at the
little rocky cove where Sir Felix Landells was pestering her with
attentions, and evidently labouring und