She flashed a quick glance at him.

"That's one reason why I proposed walking--because of the dusty roads.
We'll go through, you know. Back through the garden, over a sparsely
wooded upland, and down to the track. You did not know we were so near,
did you?"

"No; but that will be fine. Is the Major in the library? I should like
to pay my respects, if nothing more than to greet him."

"Yes; walk in. He's reading, and seems much improved. He'll be glad to
see you."

Major Dudley looked up from his book as they appeared for a moment in
the doorway, side by side. He smiled, and essayed to rise. Then John was
at his side, gently pressing him back into his chair.

"Sit still, I beg you!" he said, taking the thin, soft hand of the old
aristocrat. "I've only a moment, for Miss Dudley has promised to go with
me to the track, and we mustn't delay. I'm glad to see you looking so
well, Major."

"My health seems excellent, suh! But I cannot undergo any exertion. My
haht is gettin' a little tahed, it seems, but it's been workin' long
enough to deserve a rest. Won't you take a chair, suh?"

"Another time, thank you. The Prince is in fine trim, I believe?"

"Great colt, suh! Peter reports his condition puhfect."

"You have no apprehension in regard to the race?"

The old gentleman's eyes shot fire under their gray brows, and his body
became more erect.

"I'm as satisfied he'll win as I am the sun will rise tuhmorrow!"

"Good! I share your belief to the full. Let me say good-bye now. The sun
will not last much over an hour."

A minute later Julia and John were passing through the garden, side by
side.

"Of course you read in the paper about Uncle Arthur's death?" she said.

John flushed guiltily, and he gave her a covert look. Her face was a
little shadowed, and very sweet.

"Yes," he answered, seeking vainly in his mind for an excuse to change
the subject.

"It was all very queer," she resumed, puckering her brow and shaking her
head slowly. "The letter from the lawyer was so formal, and was not
explicit. We have feared there was some mistake, as we have not heard
from Uncle Arthur for so many years. Father wrote to the lawyer asking
for further details, but has heard nothing from him."

"It was queer," admitted Glenning, feeling the weight of his duplicity,
while his conscience writhed as though a white hot iron had touched it.

"It saddened us so much to think that he was coming back to us, and did
not liv