t them all Kinghorne was the life and soul of the general merriment. A
good many quiet flirtations were in progress too. Kinghorne seemed to be
particularly attracted by the pretty little widow whom I had first seen
in pale blue, and who I discovered was French, her name being the
Baronne de Bourbriac. She seemed to divide her attentions between Mr.
Seymour and the German Colonel.

From mademoiselle, her maid, I learned that Madame la Baronne had lost
her husband after only four months of matrimony, and now found herself
in possession of a great fortune, a house in the Avenue des Champs
Elysees, a villa at Roquebrune, and the great mediaeval chateau of
Bourbriac, in the great wine-lands along the Saone.

Was she, I wondered, contemplating matrimony again? One evening before
the dressing-bell sounded, I met them quite accidentally strolling
together across the park, and the earnestness of their conversation
caused my wonder to increase.

Careful observation, however, showed me that Colonel von Rausch was
almost as much a favourite with the little widow as was the Honourable
Bob. Indeed, in the three days which followed I recognised plainly that
the skittish little widow, so charming, so chic, and dressed with that
perfection only possible with the true Parisienne, was playing a double
game.

I felt inclined to tell my master, yet on due reflection saw that his
love affairs were no concern of mine, while to speak would be only to
betray myself as spying upon him.

So I held silence, but nevertheless continued to watch.

Several times I took out Brackenbury, Shand, von Rausch, and others in
the car. Twice the widow went for a run alone with my master and myself.
Life was, to say the least, extremely pleasant in those warm summer days
at Edgcott.

Late one afternoon the Honourable Bob found me in the garage, and in a
low voice said:

"You must pretend to be unwell, Nye. I want to take von Rausch out by
myself, so go back to the house and pretend you're queer."

This I did without question, and he and the Colonel were out together in
an unknown direction until nearly midnight. Had they, I wondered, gone
again to meet the consumptive converter of the Chinese to Christianity?

I took William into my confidence, but he was silent. He would express
no opinion.

"There's no moss on the guv'nor, you bet," was all he would vouchsafe.

Thus for yet another four days things progressed merrily at Edgcott
Hall. William h