d
recognize his back. He hoped that it was not because of her mishap
that she was not in a habit. He could hardly be expected to divine the
true reason. This was, shortly, that the lady, who had expected to see
him, could not enjoy a pastime from participation in which footmen are
for a variety of reasons so rigorously debarred. Incidentally, she had
seen Anthony before he had seen her, and the smile with which he had
credited her companion's bonhomie was due to his presence alone. Had
this been explained to the young sportsman, as one of Valerie's swains
it would have spoiled his day. As it was, he emerged from the car with
the genial air of one who is in high favour, and, after a word with a
groom who had come up bustling, mounted a good-looking grey and, waving
his hat to the ladies, proceeded to join his fellows with his eyes
sparkling and his chin on his shoulder.

"Mason," said Lady Touchstone.

The chauffeur, who had descended, sprang to the door.

"Open the door." The man did so, and her ladyship alighted. "I'm
going to look at the hounds. You'd better come with me."

"Very good, my lady."

The pair moved off in single file.

Though the office was new to him, the dignity of Mason's demeanour was
irreproachable. It was clear that the blood of flunkeys was in his
veins. As a matter of fact, one hundred years before, his grandfather
had done much escort duty, with a band on his hat and a cane in his
hand. Though Mason did not know it, the manner had been bred in his
bone.

"'Ere's a lady wants yer."

This was quite true. Miss French had not put it so bluntly, but it was
not her fault that the messenger she had selected knew a footman when
he saw one.

Major Anthony Lyveden thanked his informant with a smile. Had it been
Caliban himself that had growled the message, the smile would have been
as ready. Such a summons lost nothing in the telling.

George received the intimation that his colleague would be back in a
minute apathetically. He was yet in some dudgeon. Beyond heaving a
sigh charged with the resignation of a martyr who remembers that he has
left his gloves in the torture-chamber, he evinced no interest at all.

Anthony crossed the turf to where Miss French sat smiling in a brown
laudaulette, and touched his hat. Appearances had to be kept up.
Valerie inclined her head gravely enough, but the look with which she
honoured his action was not of this world. Anthony felt astoundi