"No," I answered in a wooden voice. "I've heard nothing."

She beamed. "The dear child is engaged to a Sir Alister Moeran, whom she
met in Luxor. Everyone is delighted, as it is a splendid match for her.
Lady Wilmott speaks most highly of him, a man of excellent family and
position, and perfectly charming to boot."

I believe I murmured something suitable, but it was absurd to pretend to
be overjoyed at the news. The galling part of it was that Aunt Linda
knew, and was chuckling, so to speak, over my discomfiture.

"If you are going up to Wimberley Park," she went on sweetly, "you will
probably meet them both, as your Uncle Bob has asked us all there for
the February house-party. He cabled an invitation to Sir Alister as soon
as he heard of the engagement. Wasn't it good of him?"

I replied that it was; then, having heard quite enough for one day of
the charms of Ethne's _fiance_, I took my leave.

That night, after cursing myself for a churl, I wrote and wished her
good luck. The next morning I received a letter from Uncle Bob asking me
to go to Wimberley; and early in the following week I travelled up to
Cumberland. I received a warm welcome from the old General. As a boy I
used to spend the greater part of my holidays with him, and being
childless himself, he regarded me more or less as a son.

On February 16th Ethne, her mother, and Sir Alister Moeran arrived. I
motored to the station to meet them. The evening was cold and raw and so
dark that it was almost impossible to distinguish people on the badly
lighted little platform. However, as I groped my way along, I recognised
Ethne's voice, and thus directed, hurried towards the group. As I did so
two gleaming, golden eyes flashed out at me through the darkness.

"Hullo!" I thought. "So she's carted along the faithful Pincher!" But
the next moment I found I was mistaken, for Ethne was holding out both
hands to me in greeting. There was no dog with her, and in the bustle
that followed, I forgot to seek further for the solution of those two
fiery lights.

"It was good of you to come, Maurice," Ethne said with unmistakable
pleasure, then, turning to the man at her side, "Alister, this is my
cousin, Captain Kilvert, of whom you have heard me speak."

We murmured the usual formalities in the usual manner, but as my fingers
touched his, I experienced the most curious sensation down the region of
my spine. It took me back to Burma and a certain very uncomfortable