he night
train, and reached the station just as the train came in. He was hot
and, no doubt, looked rather worried; for there was no means of letting
Celia know that he had gone, or of making an appointment with her. Of
course, he pictured her wandering about the wood in the hope of seeing
him, and acutely imagined her disappointment.

CHAPTER XXVI

Meanwhile, Heyton returned to the Hall; walking with a certain
jauntiness which was not altogether assumed; for the disposal of the
jewel-case had been an immense relief. Some of the servants were now
about, and to her surprise, he wished one of the maids good morning
quite pleasantly; to her surprise, because Heyton's manner to his
inferiors was usually anything but a pleasant one; and, while all the
household was devoted to the Marquess, and would have done anything for
him, his son was unpopular. As he passed along the lower hall, Heyton
glanced at the window he had opened: it had not been shut. He went up
the stairs and, as he entered his dressing-room, hummed the latest comic
song. The breakfast hour at the Hall was half-past nine; the Marquess
was called at half-past eight, but Heyton's valet had orders not to
disturb his master until he rang, and, more often than not, Heyton's
bell did not ring until breakfast was on the table.

Heyton threw himself down on the bed and closed his eyes with the
preposterous idea of getting a little sleep; but he lay and listened,
and presently he heard Miriam's maid knocking at the bedroom door; then
he rose and rang for his man.

"Early this morning, eh, Simcox?" he said. "Been for a swim. Feel jolly
fit. Fact is, we all lie abed too late; I've half a mind to get up for a
bath in the lake every morning."

The valet grinned to himself as he answered respectfully,

"Yes, my lord. Very pleasant in the morning."

When he had half finished dressing, Heyton called to Miriam.

"I say, Miriam, what about a drive this morning? We might go over to
Teynsham."

"I don't know; I'll see," she called back listlessly.

"I'll wear a tweed suit," said Heyton to his man; "I'll have the new
one. And, look here, you tell the tailor to give me a little more room
round the waist. I suppose I must be getting fat, eh, Simcox?"

"Oh, not fat, my lord," murmured Simcox, remonstratingly.
"More--er--comfortable."

When the man had finished with him, Heyton lit a cigarette and leant
back in his chair--as if he were waiting for something.