Mrs. Chudleigh's revelation had been a shock. With his sense of duty and family pride, he had, when the news of the frontier disaster first reached him, found it almost impossible to believe that his nephew had been guilty of shameful cowardice; and now it looked as if the disgrace might be brought still closer home. Bertram would presently take his place and, retiring from active service, rule the estate in accordance with Challoner traditions and perhaps exert some influence in politics; he remembered that Mrs. Chudleigh had laid some stress on this. She had, however, told him that Bertram, from whom so much was expected, had shown himself a poltroon and, what was even worse, had allowed an innocent man to suffer for his baseness. Challoner had spent the last few days pondering the evidence she had offered him and had seen one or two weak points in it. By making the most of these, it might, perhaps, be reb.u.t.ted, but his honesty rendered such a course out of the question if she were right in her conclusions, and he was forced to admit that this was possible. Bertram had shown timidity in his younger days--Challoner remembered that they had had some trouble in teaching him to ride--and there was no doubt that his was a highly-strung and nervous temperament. He had not the calm which marked the Challoners in time of strain. Then d.i.c.k Blake was recklessly generous and loved his cousin; it would be consistent with his character if he were willing to suffer in Bertram's stead. Moreover there were reasons which might have had some effect in inducing Bertram to consent, because Challoner knew the affection his son bore him and that he would shrink from involving him in his disgrace. What Bertram would certainly not have done to secure his own escape he might have done for the sake of his father and the girl he was to marry.

Admitting all this, Challoner could not take his son's guilt for granted. There was room for doubt, and soon after leaving Mrs.

Chudleigh he had cabled a friend in Montreal asking him to spare no effort to trace Blake. If the latter could be found, he must be summoned home and forced to declare the truth. By and by Challoner heard a footstep and looking up saw Foster approaching. He stopped and regarded the Colonel with surprise, for it was seldom Challoner was to be seen sitting moodily idle.

"I'm taking a short cut through your grounds to the fir spinney," he said. "As I was leaving home Mrs. Chudleigh asked me to give you this note, and when I looked in at the house Miss Challoner said she didn't know where you were and a telegram had just come in. Thinking I might find you, I brought it along." Handing the other two envelopes he added: "Sorry to see you're not looking as brisk as usual."

"There's not much the matter," Challoner replied, forcing a smile.

"Still, I do feel a trifle slack, and I've had something to worry me."

Foster gave him a sympathetic nod. "Worry's bad; make a rule to avoid it when I can. But will you walk as far as the wood?"

He went on when Challoner said he would sooner remain, and the latter eagerly opened the telegram. It was in answer to his cable and read--

"Blake and two others left Sweet.w.a.ter settlement. Destination supposed far North."

This implied the impossibility of learning anything from his nephew for some time, and Challoner could not recall his son, who was then in j.a.pan and must shortly rejoin his Indian regiment. Besides, if Bertram were blameless, it would be a cruel blow for him to find that his father had suspected him of a shameful deed, while if he were guilty, something must be done. This would probably lead to a disastrous change in their relations and compel Bertram to leave the army. Though the suspense was hard to bear, Challoner, as Mrs. Chudleigh had foreseen, was beginning to feel afraid to learn the truth and inclined to temporize.

Then he opened her note and read--

"As I hear you expect Mr. Greythorpe, shortly, I venture to believe that now you have had time for reflection you will see that it would be better for everybody if you did as I suggested. This would be a great favour and you could count upon my grat.i.tude and discretion."

Studying it carefully, Challoner saw a threat as well as a promise that she would keep his secret if he complied, but he tore the note up and trod the fragments into the soil. So far as the African appointment was concerned, he was not to be influenced. He would not offer a bribe for her silence, nor would he derive a personal advantage from a piece of jobbery. On that point his mind was made up.

A little later Mrs. Keith opened a neighbouring gate and came towards him.

"The fine morning tempted me out, and as Lucy Foster was pa.s.sing with the car, I thought I'd look your sister up," she said. "But I'm afraid you're in trouble. The last time we met you had a downcast air and you don't look much brighter to-day."

"It's unpleasant to think I'm in the habit of showing my feelings so plainly," he answered.

"You don't, but your moody calm has its meaning. I've known you long enough to recognize it. You can't deny that something is disturbing you."

"No," said Challoner. "I'm not clever enough to hide it from your keen eyes."

"They're very friendly, as you know. I'll strain a friend's privilege far enough to guess that your perplexities began the last time you and Mrs. Chudleigh met."

He wondered how much she knew and longed to confide in her. She was very staunch, but his secret must be kept until he had learned the truth.

"I'm sorry, Margaret, but I can't tell you what is troubling me."

She made a sign of acquiescence. "You would if it were possible and I won't press you, but you know I can be trusted if you need me. I was afraid of that woman; I felt she threatened you."

Their glances met and lingered, and Challoner felt that the reason for his grief was but thinly veiled from her. Still, for his son's sake, he could not confirm her suspicions, and he broke into a dry smile.

"I believe you tried to protect me, and it certainly wasn't your fault that you failed. I appreciate it, Margaret, but after all there may be less cause for anxiety than I imagine, and we'll talk about something else. Will you come up to the house?"

They walked slowly across the lawn, and though his companion chatted about indifferent matters Challoner knew he had her sympathy. When they reached the door she stopped.

"I needn't bring you in, because I have something to ask Hilda. No doubt, it's unnecessary, but you won't mind my warning you not to be influenced by anything that woman said."

"I had already decided to disregard it."

A look of gratified confidence came into her eyes. "That is what I expected; you are not easily swayed, but I see signs of strain. There is some crisis you must face, and I think it is connected with Greythorpe's visit."

"You have guessed correctly."

"When one is in difficulties the easiest way out is not always the best. But you know that."

"I have learned it. One has often to chose between the right and the most prudent thing."

"Ah!" said Mrs. Keith, "I believe they are generally the same in the end; that is, if one has the courage to choose the former."

Challoner bowed. "You have never failed me, Margaret, and you give me good counsel now."

She went in, and he turned away, feeling encouraged; but a reaction followed, and he spent the rest of the day in troubled thought. A day or two later Greythorpe arrived and in the early evening sat with his host in the library. Though dusk was closing in, a window near them stood open and a single shaded candle burned upon a neighbouring table.

Presently Greythorpe opened some papers.

"We have not settled the African appointment yet," he said. "The matter, of course, is not altogether in my hands, but my recommendation will have weight, and I should be glad of your opinion before making it. You will find the names and qualifications of the candidates here."

Challoner studied the papers, and then gazed out of the window without speaking. It was not quite dark, and he could see the great oaks in the park, and the sombre ma.s.ses of the woods rolling back up the valley. In the foreground, a sheet of water shone with a pale gleam.

It was a rich and beautiful countryside and much of it belonged to him.

Though his wife had brought him money, Sandymere had long been the property of the Challoners, and the old house had a picturesque stateliness, while every field and farmstead had been well cared for.

In process of time it would all be his son's, and, in that sense, Bertram had more than an individual importance. He was one of a line of men who had served their country well in court and field, and any disgrace that fell upon him would taint a respected name and reflect upon his children, for the family honour was indivisible, a thing that stretched backwards to the past as well as forward. Now, however, it was threatened by an unprincipled woman who claimed the power to drag it in the mire; but Challoner recognized that he could not allow this to influence him. His private affairs must not count where the interests of his country were concerned.

"Well," he said at length, "the matter seems difficult to decide. You have two men of excellent character, whom I know something about, and a third who has shown ability in a subordinate post."

"Sedgwick? Your manner leads me to believe that you don't quite cla.s.s him with the others."

"There is a difference. The first two are honest and reliable but not brilliant men. Sedgwick is obviously more capable than either, but I suspect that self-interest is his strongest motive. I knew a major in his regiment. He might use this appointment to force himself into prominence."

"It's possible, but that needn't prove a great drawback."

"Is the Cabinet ready to embark upon a bold course of Colonial expansion?"

"No," said Greythorpe with a smile, "not so far as I'm acquainted with their views, but we would like the strip of unoccupied territory, and Sedgwick seems alive to its importance."

"He'll probably get it for you if you give him a chance, but I imagine he won't stop there. In fact, he may take you much farther than you wish to go. Suppose he brings off some sensational coup in which you would have to support him at the expense of France?"

"There might be some risk of that, but he's undoubtedly an able man."

"I think so," Challoner agreed. "It's his disinterestedness I suspect."

"Then if the post were at your disposal, you would not offer it to him?"