when they both saw Lord Heyton crossing the
lawn. Reggie looked at him in silence for a moment; then he said:--

"That one of the swells of the house?"

"That is Lord Heyton, the Marquess's son," said Celia.

"Friend of yours?" Reggie inquired.

"No!" escaped Celia's lips.

Reggie turned his eyes to her quickly.

"Glad of that!" he said. "Because, if there's anything in the science of
physiognomy, that gentleman is a decidedly bad lot."

Celia turned away from the gate and walked slowly beside Reggie.

"You jump at conclusions," she said. "You have only seen him for a
moment or two, and at a distance."

"I've got very good eyes," said Reggie; "and a moment or two's long
enough; it's the first impression that's valuable; and, as I say, if
there's any truth in the theory that you can read a character by facial
characteristics, that gentleman is about as bad as they make 'em."

"But--forgive me--that you should be able to judge so swiftly sounds
absurd."

"Well, it may be," admitted Reggie, grudgingly. "But I'll bet my last
dollar that I'm right. Why, don't you see," he went on, earnestly,
insistently, "the man's got all the wrong points; the low, shelving
brow, the weak chin, the--the wrong lips. Did you notice the trick he
has of looking sideways under his lids? You know what I mean, the
furtive 'does-anyone-know' look?"

"I have noticed it," said Celia, reluctantly. "I have only seen him once
or twice. I--I agree with you partly, and I don't think he's a good
man."

"_Good_ man!" retorted Reggie, with a laugh of derision. "You take it
from me that he's as bad as they make 'em. It's my belief that he's done
something already--something he's ashamed of; something he's afraid may
be found out. Oh, laugh if you like; but, look here, Miss Grant, you
take my advice and keep clear of that man."

"I mean to," said Celia, as lightly as she could. "And so, as he's in
the front of the house, I'm going in at this side door. Good-bye; I'll
write to you."

Reggie walked on towards the Grange, and as he approached Susie's
cottage, his step grew slow, so slow that, when he came to the gate, he
almost stopped; and his eyes searched the door and the window eagerly;
but he was not rewarded by a sight of the sad, pretty face which had
moved him so deeply.

CHAPTER XVII

To return to Derrick Dene. When Isabel had left the van he lay, with a
frown on his face, thinking sadly and troubled by a somewhat
unreason