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 of wistful tenderness in strange contrast to his assiduous but commonplace hospitality.

Half an hour before luncheon General Sadgrove, returning on foot from the station and looking five years older for his run up to London, met the two young couples, who had now joined forces, as they were entering the mansion. Forsyth gave his uncle an anxious glance of inquiry, but the old man passed him by unheeding, and addressed the Duke in a tone of icy formality.

“I shall be obliged if your Grace will give me five minutes in the library on a very urgent matter,” he said, adding, with significant emphasis, “I have been with Mr. Ziegler this morning.”

Beaumanoir, gone all pale and tremulous, made a palpable effort at self-control as he replied:

“Come into the library by all means, General. But I am afraid you will find me quite as reticent as I am sure Ziegler was.”

The interview lasted till long after the luncheon gong had sounded, and when at length the Duke and the General entered the dining-room two pairs of watchful eyes observed that their relative attitudes had been