aken liberties with. But
it is a great surprise to see you here. I had no idea that any one was
at Rowchester, or expected there, except Lord Blenavon. Has the Duke
returned?"

She shook her head.

"I came down alone," she answered. "I found London dull. Let me see, I
am sure that I know your face, do I not?" she added, turning to Blanche
Moyat with a smile. "You live in Braster, surely?"

"I am Miss Moyat," Blanche answered quietly.

"Of course. Dear me! I ought to have recognized you. We have been
neighbours for a good many years."

"I will wish you good-afternoon, Mr. Ducaine," Blanche said, turning to
me. "Good-afternoon--your Ladyship," she added a little awkwardly.

I opened the door for her.

"I will come down and see your father the first evening I have to
spare," I said. "I hope you will tell him from me that I should have
been before, but for the luxury of having some work to do."

"I will tell him," she said almost inaudibly.

"And thank you very much for coming to inquire after me," I added.
"Good-afternoon."

"Good-afternoon, Mr. Ducaine."

I closed the door. Lady Angela was lounging in my easy chair with a
slight smile upon her lips.

"Two lady callers in one afternoon, Mr. Ducaine," she remarked quietly.
"You will lose your head, I am afraid."

"I can assure you, Lady Angela," I answered, "that there is not the
slightest fear of such a catastrophe."

She sat looking meditatively into the fire, swinging her dogskin gloves
in her hands. She wore a plain pearl grey walking dress and deerstalker
hat with a single quill in it. The severe but immaculate simplicity of
her toilette might have been designed to accentuate the barbarities of
Blanche Moyat's cheap finery.

"I understood that you would be in town for at least three weeks," I
remarked. "I trust that his Grace is well."

"I trust that he is," she answered. "I see nothing of him in London.
He has company meetings and political work every moment of his time. I
do not believe that there is any one who works harder."

"He has, at least," I remarked, "the compensation of success."

"You are wondering, I suppose," she said, looking up at me quickly,
"what has brought me back again so soon."

"I certainly did not expect you," I admitted.

She rose abruptly.

"Come outside," she said, "and I will show you. Bring your hat."

We passed into the March twilight. She led the way down the cliff and
towards the great silent stretch of salt