paniels. It was the third thing she had found time to disapprove of
since lunch, without counting her silent and permanent disapproval of
the way Clovis's mother did her hair.

"We have been admiring the Himalayan pheasants," said Mrs. Packletide
suavely.

"They went off to a bird-show at Nottingham early this morning," said
Lady Susan, with the air of one who disapproves of hasty and
ill-considered lying.

"Their house, I mean; such perfect roosting arrangements, and all so
clean," resumed Mrs. Packletide, with an increased glow of enthusiasm.
The odious Bertie van Tahn was murmuring audible prayers for Mrs.
Packletide's ultimate estrangement from the paths of falsehood.

"I hope you don't mind dinner being a quarter of an hour late
to-night," said Lady Susan; "Motkin has had an urgent summons to go and
see a sick relative this afternoon. He wanted to bicycle there, but I
am sending him in the motor."

"How very kind of you! Of course we don't mind dinner being put off."
The assurances came with unanimous and hearty sincerity.

At the dinner-table that night an undercurrent of furtive curiosity
directed itself towards Motkin's impassive countenance. One or two of
the guests almost expected to find a slip of paper concealed in their
napkins, bearing the name of the second cousin's selection. They had
not long to wait. As the butler went round with the murmured question,
"Sherry?" he added in an even lower tone the cryptic words, "Better
not." Mrs. Packletide gave a start of alarm, and refused the sherry;
there seemed some sinister suggestion in the butler's warning, as
though her hostess had suddenly become addicted to the Borgia habit. A
moment later the explanation flashed on her that "Better Not" was the
name of one of the runners in the big race. Clovis was already
pencilling it on his cuff, and Colonel Drake, in his turn, was
signalling to every one in hoarse whispers and dumb-show the fact that
he had all along fancied "B.N."

Early next morning a sheaf of telegrams went Townward, representing the
market commands of the house-party and servants' hall.

It was a wet afternoon, and most of Lady Susan's guests hung about the
hall, waiting apparently for the appearance of tea, though it was
scarcely yet due. The advent of a telegram quickened every one into a
flutter of expectancy; the page who brought the telegram to Clovis
waited with unusual alertness to know if there might be an answer.

Clovis