iviera. At least Tinker was enjoying it; the demands of a system
required his father and Lord Crosland to spend most of their day in the
darker, though hardly cooler air of the Temple of Fortune. But the
system went well, and they did not repine.

The first time he dined in the restaurant of the hotel, Sir Tancred was
disagreeably surprised to see sitting at a neighbouring table his
loathed uncle, Sir Everard Wigram. They had met now and again during
the past nine years; but as such a meeting had always resulted in some
severe wound to the Baronet's dignity, he shunned his nephew like the
pest, and abused him from a distance. At the same table sat a
charming, peach-complexioned English girl. After a careful scrutiny of
her, Sir Tancred decided that she must be his cousin Claire, Sir
Everard's eldest child, and admitted with a very grudging reluctance
that even the rule that thorns do not produce grapes is proved by
exceptions. The third person at their table was a handsome young man,
with glossy black hair, a high-coloured, florid face, and a roving
black eye. Sir Tancred's gaze rested on him with a malicious
satisfaction; he knew all about Mr. Arthur Courtnay.

Presently Lord Crosland's eye fell on that table. "Hullo!" he said
sharply. "How on earth comes that bounder Courtnay to be dining with
the Wigrams?"

"Like to like," said Sir Tancred with a surprising, cheerful animation.

A few mornings later Sir Tancred, Tinker, and Lord Crosland were
sitting in the gardens of the Temple of Fortune, and on a bench hard by
sat Claire and Courtnay. He was bending over her, talking volubly, in
a loverlike attitude, exceedingly offensive in so public a place. To
Sir Tancred's shrewd eyes he seemed to be deliberately advertising
their intimacy. She was gazing dreamily before her with happy eyes,
over the sea. Lord Crosland grew more and more fidgety; and at last he
said hotly, "You ought to interfere!"

"Not I!" said Sir Tancred. "I'm not going to interfere. I have enough
to do to keep Tinker out of mischief without acting as dry-nurse to the
children of Uncle Bumpkin."

"But hang it all, the man's a regular bad hat!" said Lord Crosland.
"He was advised to resign from the Bridge Club, and I happen to know
that he is actually wanted in London about a cheque."

"And in Paris, Berlin, Petersburg, Vienna, and Buda-Pesth. Men who
speak French as well as he does always are," said Sir Tancred. "Which
reminds me,