ad the circumstances. It was just what I should have expected
from the Duke. It seemed that he had lent his name to the prospectus of
a company formed for the purpose of working some worthless patent
designed to revolutionize the silk weaving trade. The Duke's reason for
going on the Board was purely philanthropic. He had hoped to restore an
ancient industry in a decaying neighbourhood. The whole thing turned
out to be a swindle. One angry shareholder stated plainly at the
meeting that he had taken his shares on account of the Duke's name upon
the prospectus, and hinted ugly things. The Duke had risen calmly in
his place. He assured them that he fully recognized his
responsibilities in the matter. If the person who had last spoken was
in earnest when he stated that the Duke's name had induced him to take
shares in this company, then he was prepared to relieve him of those
shares at the price which he had paid for them. Further, if there was
any other persons who were able honestly to say that the name of the
Duke of Rowchester upon the prospectus had induced them to invest their
money in this concern, his offer extended also to them.

There were roars of applause, wild enthusiasm. It was magnificent, but
the lowest estimate of what it would cost the Duke was a hundred
thousand pounds.

I put down the paper, and my cheeks were flushed with enthusiasm. I
think that if the Duke had been there at that moment I could have kissed
his hand. I passed with much less interest to the letter which Grooton
had brought in with the paper. It was from a firm of solicitors in
Lincoln's Inn, and it informed me, in a few precise sentences, that they
had the authority of their client, Sir Michael Trogoldy, to pay me
yearly the sum of five hundred pounds.

CHAPTER XXVII

FRIEND OR ENEMY?

There came no summons from Rowchester, and I dined alone. I must have
dozed over my after-dinner cigarette, for at first that soft rapping
seemed to come to me from a long way off. Then I sat up in my chair
with a start. My cigarette had burnt out, my coffee was cold. I had
been asleep, and outside some one was knocking at my' front door.

I had sent Grooton to the village with letters, and I was alone in the
place. I sprang from my chair just as the handle of the door was turned
and a woman stepped quietly in. She was wrapped from head to foot in a
long cloak, and she was thickly veiled. But I knew her at once. It was
Mrs. Smith-Lessing.

My