hing but sleep, I imagine,
day and night, from the way he keeps to his room. Hullo! I say! What's
it? Aren't going to crumple up, Barch, are you?"

This, because Cleek had suddenly lurched against the bannister at the
head of the stairs, and swung clean round until his back was resting
against it.

"No--that is, I hope not; but I do feel rotten, old chap," replied he.
"Just half a second, will you?"

He lolled back his head, gave a sort of groan, and rapidly and silently
began to count the doors and to make sure of the location of Lord St.
Ulmer's room. "All right; only a passing spasm, I reckon, old chap," he
went on as soon as he had discovered that his lordship's door was the
third from the end of the passage, and that his window would, therefore,
be the second from the angle of the wing in the outer wall of the house.
"Come on--let's go down." And leaning heavily upon young Raynor, he
descended to the dining-room.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE CLOUDBURST

The delay, trifling though it was, occasioned by the smashing of the
tobacco jar and the discovery of the photograph, served to interfere
with the smooth progress of events, as it fell out that Cleek did not,
after all, rejoin the party below in time to witness the first meeting
between Geoffrey Clavering and Lady Katharine Fordham, for the carriage
had arrived at the entrance to the house before he put in an appearance,
and the General and Mrs. Raynor, Ailsa and Lady Katharine, were out on
the veranda talking excitedly with young Clavering when Harry and Cleek
came upon the scene.

There is a subtle magic in love that dispels all other emotions, and
despite the gravity of the situation, a look of happiness radiated from
Lady Katharine's face, reflected, though in a far lesser degree, upon
Geoffrey Clavering's; indeed it did not need an over-keen eye to detect
that the young man was seriously ill at ease, and general conversation
languished.

Cleek's entry, therefore, with young Raynor's announcement of his sudden
attack of faintness, not only drew all attention, but, as he had
foreseen, he became an object of extreme solicitude upon the part of
the ladies.

"Crocked up, poor beggar, and came within an ace of bowling over,"
explained young Raynor as he led him to a seat in a big wicker chair.
"Sharp attack of indigestion, if I know the symptoms. Bet you a hat,
mater, it was that beastly cheese souffle we had for lunch. Enough to
kill a dog, that stuff.