_affiche_
a mile off.

'It is.' Lord Findon looked a little disturbed, and, turning, he
scanned the terrace up and down before he bent towards Eugenie.

'You know, darling, it's an awkward business about these two men. I
don't believe Arthur's patience will hold out.'

'Oh yes, it will, papa. For our sakes, Arthur would keep the peace.'

'If the other will let him! I used to think, Eugenie, you had tamed
the bear--but, upon my soul!'--Lord Findon threw up his hands in
protest.

'He's in low spirits, papa. It will be better soon,' said Eugenie,
softly, and as she spoke she rose and went down the steps to meet the
Welbys.

Lord Findon followed her, tormented by a queer, unwelcome thought.
Was it possible that Eugenie was now--with her widowhood--beginning to
take a more than friendly interest in that strange fellow, Fenwick? If
so, _he_ would be tolerably punished for his meddling of long ago!
To have snatched her from Arthur, in order to hand her to John
Fenwick!--Lord Findon crimsoned hotly at the notion, all his pride of
race and caste up in arms.

Of course she ought now to marry. He wished to see her before he died
the wife of some good fellow, and the mistress of a great house. Why
not? Eugenie's distinctions of person and family--leaving her fortune,
which was considerable, out of count--were equal to any fate. 'It's
all very well to despise such things--but we have to keep up the
traditions,' he said to himself, testily.

And in spite of her thirty-seven years a suitable bridegroom would not
be at all hard to find. Lord Findon had perceived that in Egypt,
where they had spent the winter and early spring. Several of the most
distinguished men then in Cairo had been her devoted slaves--ill as
she was and at half-power. Alderney--almost certain to be the next
Viceroy of India--one of the most charming of widowers, with an only
daughter--it had been plain both to Lord Findon and his stupid wife
that Eugenie had made a deep impression upon a man no less romantic
than fastidious. Eugenie had but to lift her hand, and he would have
followed them to Syria. On the contrary, she had taken special pains
to prevent it. And General F,--and that clever fellow X,--who was now
reorganising Egyptian finance--and several more--they were all under
the spell.

But Eugenie had this quixotic liking for the 'intellectuals' of a
particular sort, for artists and poets, and people in difficulties
generally. Well, he had it hi