Mr Harbledon vouchsafed no other response to this than a sound between a groan and a snarl. He climbed into the curricle, winced when it moved forward with a jerk, and for the next hour gave no other signs of life than moans when the curricle bounced over a bad stretch of ground, and one impa.s.sioned request to Simon to refrain from singing.

Happily, his headache began to go off during the second hour, and by the time Simon pulled in his pair at the Green Man, in Harlow, he was so far restored as to be able to take more than an academic interest in the bill of fare, and even to discuss with the waiter the rival merits of a neck of venison and a dish of ox rumps, served with cabbage and a Spanish sauce.

Simon reached his lodging in Bury Street midway through the afternoon on the following day. Since neither he nor Mr Harbledon was pressed for time they had tacitly agreed to recruit nature by remaining in bed until an advanced hour. They had then eaten a leisurely and substantial breakfast, so that by the time they left the Green Man it was past noon. Still full of fraternal grat.i.tude, Simon strolled round to Arlington Street, on the chance that he might find Desford at home. He was not much surprised when Aldham, who opened the door to him, said that his lordship was not in at the moment; but when he learned, in answer to a further enquiry, that his lordship had not yet returned from Harrowgate, he opened his eyes in astonishment, and e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed: "Harrowgate?"

"Yes, sir. So I believe," said Aldham.

Simon was not wanting in intelligence, and it did not take him more than a very few moments to realize what must have made his brother go off on such a long and tedious journey. He uttered an involuntary choke of laughter, but after eyeing Aldham speculatively decided that it would be useless to try to coax any further information out of him. Besides, for anything he knew, Aldham might not have been taken into Desford's confidence. So he contented himself with leaving a message for his brother, saying: "Oh, well, when he comes home tell him I shall be in London until the end of the week!"

"Certainly I will, Mr Simon!" said Aldham, much relieved to be rescued from the horns of a dilemma. He regarded Simon with indulgent fondness, having known him from the cradle, but he knew that Simon was inclined to be a rattlecap; and since he had learnt from Pedmore that one of the first duties inc.u.mbent upon a butler was to be unfailingly discreet, and never, on any account, to blab about his master's activities, he would have been hard put to it to answer any more searching questions without either betraying the Viscount, or offending Mr Simon.

Simon was engaged to join a party of friends at Brighton, and might well have gone there in advance of the rest of the party if he had not recollected that rooms at the Ship had been booked from the Sat.u.r.day of that week. Only a greenhead would suppose that there was the smallest chance of obtaining any but the shabbiest of lodgings in Brighton, at the height of the season, if he had not booked accommodation there; so he was obliged to resign himself to several days spent in kicking his heels in London, which, in July, more nearly resembled a desert, to any member of the ton, than a fashionable metropolis. Not that London had nothing to offer for the entertainment of out of season visitors: it had several things, and Simon was considering, two days after his call in Arlington Street, whether the evening would be more amusingly spent at the Surrey Theatre, or at the c.o.c.kpit Royal, when the retired gentleman's gentleman who owned the house in Bury Street, and ministered to the three gentlemen at present lodging there, entered the room and presented him with a visiting-card, saying succinctly: "Gentleman to see you, sir."

The card bore, in florid script, an imposing legend: Baron Monte Toscano. Simon took one look at it, and handed it back. "Never heard of the fellow!" he said. "Tell him I'm not at home!"

A mellifluous voice spoke from the doorway. "I must beg a thousand pardons!" it said. "Too late did I realize that I had inadvertently presented this good man with the wrong card! Have I the honour of addressing Mr Simon Carrington? But I need not ask! You bear a marked resemblance to your father-who, I do trust, still enjoys good health?"

Considerably taken aback, Simon said: "Yes, I'm Simon Carrington, sir, but-but I fear you have the advantage of me!"

"Naturally!" said his visitor, smiling benignly at him. "I daresay you never saw me before in your life-in fact, I am quite sure of it, for until this moment you have been but a name to me." He paused to wave a dismissive hand at the retired gentleman's gentleman, saying graciously: "Thank you, my good man! That will be all!"

"The name, sir, is Diddlebury-if you have no objection!" said his good man, in a voice which clearly showed his contempt for Mr Carrington's visitor.

"None at all, my man! A very good name, in its way!" said the visitor graciously.

Diddlebury, having looked in vain for a sign from Mr Carrington, reluctantly withdrew from the room.

"And now," said the visitor, "it behoves me to repair the foolish mistake I made, when I gave the wrong card to that fellow!" He drew out a fat card-case as he spoke, and searched in it, while Simon stared at him in amazement.

He was a middle-aged man, dressed in clothes as florid as his countenance. When the highest kick of fashion was a severity of style which banished from every Tulip's wardrobe all the frilled evening shirts which had been the rage only six months before, not to mention such enormities as flowered waistcoats, brightly coloured coats, or any other jewelry than a ring and a tie-pin, he was wearing a tightly fitting coat of rich purple; a shirt whose starched frill made him look like a pouter pigeon; and a richly embroidered waistcoat. A somewhat ornate quizzing-gla.s.s hung round his neck; a number of seals and fobs dangled from his waist; a flashing tie-pin was stuck into the folds of his cravat; and several rings embellished his fingers. He had probably been a handsome man in his youth, for his features were good, but the unmistakable signs of dissipation had impaired his complexion, set pouches beneath his eyes, and rendered the eyes themselves a trifle bloodshot.

"Ah, here we have it!" he said, selecting a card from his case. However, having taken the precaution of inspecting it through his quizzing-gla.s.s, he said: "No, that's not it! Can it be that I forgot-No! Here it is at last!"

Fascinated, Simon said: "Do you-do you carry different cards, sir?"

"Certainly! I find it convenient to use one card here, and another there, for you must know that I am domiciled abroad, and spend much of my time in travel. But this card," he said, handing it to Simon with a flourish, "bears my true name, and will doubtless explain to you why I have sought you out!"

Simon took the card, and glanced at it with scant interest. But the name inscribed on it made him gasp: "Wilfred Steane? Then you aren't dead?"

"No, Mr Carrington, I am not dead," said Mr Steane, disposing himself in a chair, "I am very much alive. I may say that I am wholly at a loss to understand why anyone should have supposed me to have shuffled off this mortal coil. In the words of the poet. Shakespeare, I fancy."

"Yes, I know that," said Simon. "But I'm dashed if I know why you shouldn't understand why you was thought to have stuck your spoon in the wall! What else could anyone think when nothing was heard of you for years?"

"Was it to be supposed, young man, that if I had done any such thing I should have neglected to inform my only child of the circ.u.mstance?

Not to mention the Creature in whose charge I left her!" demanded Mr Steane, in throbbing accents of reproach.

"You couldn't have," said Simon prosaically.

"I should have made arrangements," said Mr Steane vaguely. "In fact, I had made arrangements. But let that pa.s.s! I am not here to bandy idle words with you. I am here to discover where your brother is lying concealed, Mr Carrington!"

Simon's hackles began to rise. "I have two brothers, sir, and neither of them is lying concealed!"

"I refer to your brother Desford. My concern is not with your other brother, of whose existence I was unaware. I must own that until this morning I was unaware of your existence too." He heaved a deep sigh, and sadly shook his head. "One grows out of touch! Eheu fugaces, Postume, Postume-! No doubt you can supply the rest of that moving pa.s.sage."

"Well, of course I can! Anyone could!"

"Labuntur anni," murmured Mr Steane. "How true! Alas, how true!

Although you, standing as you do on the threshold of life, cannot be expected to appreciate it. How well I remember the heedless, carefree days of my own youth, when-"

"Forgive me, sir!" said Simon, ruthlessly interrupting this rhetorical digression, "but you're wandering from the point! I collect that you wish me to tell you where my brother Desford is to be found. If I knew, I'd be happy to tell you, because he'd be devilish glad to see you, but I don't know! What I do know is that he is not lying concealed anywhere! And also," he added, with rising colour, and stammering a little, "th-that there's no reason why he should be! And, what's more, I'll thank you not to make such-such false accusations against him!"

"All alike, you Carringtons!" said Mr Steane mournfully. "How vividly the past is recalled to my remembrance by your words! Your esteemed father, now-"

"We'll leave my father out of this discussion!" snapped Simon, by this time thoroughly incensed.

"Willingly, willingly, my dear boy! It is no pleasure to me to recollect how grievously he misjudged me. How little allowance he made for youth's indiscretions, how little he understood the straits to which a young man could be reduced by the harsh conduct of a parent who was-to put the matter in vulgar terms-a hog-grubber! I will go further: a flea-mint!"

"Well, you're out there!" retorted Simon. "I don't know much about what you did in your youth, sir, but I do know that my father gave yours the cut direct when he heard he'd disowned you!"

"Did he so?" said Mr Steane, much interested. "Then I have wronged him! I would I might have been present on the occasion! It would have supplied balm to my sorely wounded heart. But how, I ask myself, could I have guessed it? When I disclose to you that to me also he gave the cut direct you will realize that it was impossible for me to have done so."

"I daresay, but I shall be obliged to you, sir, if you will cut line, and tell me what your purpose is in coming to visit me! I've already told you that I don't know where Desford is, and I can only advise you to await his return to London! He has a house in Arlington Street, and his servants are-are in hourly expectation of his return to it!"

"That he resides in Arlington Street I know," said Mr Steane. "Upon my arrival from Bath, I instantly made it my business to discover his direction-an easy task, his lordship being such a distinguished member of Society."

"Of course it was an easy task!" said Simon scornfully. "All you had to do was to consult a Street Directory!"

Mr Steane dismissed this with a lofty wave of his hand. "Be that as it may," he said, obscurely but with great dignity, "I did discover it, and instantly repaired to the inhospitable portals of his residence. These were opened to me by an individual whom I a.s.sumed to be his lordship's butler. He, like you, Mr Carrington, disclaimed all knowledge of his master's whereabouts. He was-not to put too fine a point upon it- strangely reticent. Very strangely reticent! I am neither a noddic.o.c.k nor a souse-crown, young man-in fact, I am one who is up to every move on the board, ill though it becomes me to puff myself off! And I perceived, in the twinkling of a bedpost, that he was under orders to fob me off!"

"Well, if that's what you perceived it's time you bought a pair of spectacles!" replied Simon rudely. "How could Desford have given him any such orders when he thought you were dead? And, d.a.m.n it, why the devil should he have done so? I daresay there's no one he would liefer meet than yourself! Yes, and if you care to leave me your direction I promise you I'll give it to my brother the instant I know where he is to be found! All I know at this present is that he went off to Harrowgate, early last week!"

Mr Steane appeared to subject this information to profound consideration. After an appreciable pause, he shook his head, and said with an indulgent smile: "It pains me to cast a doubt upon your veracity-and I would not wish you to think that I am insensible to the virtue of Loyalty! I a.s.sure you, young man, that I honour your n.o.ble determination to protect your brother, however much I may deplore his unworthiness. I will go further! If the interests of my beloved child were not so tragically involved, I should applaud it. But what, I ask myself, should take Lord Desford to Harrowgate? No doubt a salubrious resort, and one, as I recall, much patronized by persons afflicted with gout, scurvy, and paralytic debilities. But if you wish to persuade me that Desford, who cannot, by my reckoning, be above thirty years of age, suffers from any of these distressing diseases, you are-in vulgar parlance-doing it rather too brown."

"No, he don't suffer from those diseases! He don't suffer from any diseases, and he didn't go to Harrowgate for his health. Unless I'm much mistaken, he went there on what ought to be your business, Mr Steane!

When I last saw him he was on the point of setting out to search for your father!"

"Tut, tut, my boy!" said Mr Steane reprovingly. "Too rare and thick altogether! I have never had any business in Harrowgate. Or, in point of fact, in any of the watering-places of its kind: they offer no scope at all to a man of my genius. As for my father, I have cut my connection with him. He has been as one dead to me for many years."

"Desford is searching for him to claim his protection for his granddaughter-your daughter, sir, whom you left dest.i.tute!" said Simon furiously. "Or is she too as one dead to you?"

"That I should have lived to hear such words addressed to me!"

e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr Steane, pressing a hand to his heart, and casting up his eyes. "My only child-my beloved child-the only relative I have in the world I And do not, I beg of you, speak to me of my erstwhile brother! I have not sunk so low as to claim relationship to that snivel-nose!" he added, descending abruptly from his histrionic heights. However, he rapidly recovered himself, and said: "I demand of you, young man, is not my presence in London proof of my devotion to the sole pledge left to me by my adored partner in the marital state?" Overcome by these reflections, he buried his face in his handkerchief, and became to all appearances bowed with grief.

"No, it ain't!" said Simon bluntly. "Anyone would think you'd plunged into a burning house, or some such thing!"

Affronted, Mr Steane raised his head, and said, with a good deal of feeling: "If you imagine that plunging into a burning house is a riskier thing to do than to come boldly into this city, you are much mistaken!

Why did I shake its dust from my feet do you suppose? Why did I choose to go into exile, leaving my beloved child-temporarily, of course-in the care of a female who had cozened me into believing her to be worthy of my trust?"

"I hardly like to say, sir!" promptly replied Simon. "But since you ask me I should think it was because the tipstaffs were after you!"

"Worse!" said Mr Steane tragically. "I do not propose to recount the circ.u.mstances which led to my ruin. Suffice it to say that from the hour of my birth misfortune has dogged my every step. My youth was blighted by a gripe-fisted parent, and a scaly scrub of a brother, who had not the common decency to c.o.c.k up .his toes when his life was despaired of! Not only did he rise up from what I confidently expected to be his death-bed, but less than a year later he fathered a son! That, young man, was the final straw!"

"Did-did you raise the recruits on a post obit bond?" asked Simon, awed.

"Naturally! Do not be misled into thinking that because I am not, I thank G.o.d, a muckworm, I am a lob-c.o.c.k! It was not in my father's power to cut me out of the Succession. If Jonas died, leaving a pack of daughters, I must, in due course, have inherited t.i.tle, fortune, and all.

Pardon me! The thought unmans me!" He disappeared once more into his handkerchief, emerging, after a few moments to say: "I shall not say that I was shattered. It was a blow that would indeed have crushed me had I been a pudding-heart, but I am not a pudding-heart: I have ever borne my reverses with becoming fort.i.tude, and have seldom failed to make a recover. In this crisis, did I flinch? did I despair? No, Mr Carrington! I girded up my loins, as did-well, I forget who it was, but it's no matter!-and I did make a recover! You see in me, today, one who by his own exertions has raised himself from low tide to high water."

"Then why the deuce don't you settle your debts?" asked Simon sceptically.

Shocked by this suggestion, Mr Steane exclaimed: "Waste the ready on my creditors? I am not such a spill-good as that, I hope! Nor let me tell you, as unmindful of my duty to my child! I had no other purpose in returning to the land of my birth than to succour her. Conceive what were my feelings when I arrived in Bath, yearning to clasp her in my arms, only to discover that the Creature to whom I had entrusted her had cast her off! Delivered her, in fact, into the hands of one of my bitterest enemies! And why? Because, if you please, in the midst of my struggles to bring myself about I had been obliged to defer the payment of her bills! Could she not have reposed as much confidence in my integrity as I had reposed in hers? Did she doubt that as soon as it became possible for me to do so I should have discharged my debt to her in full? Her only reply to these home-questions was a flood of tears."

He paused, directing a challenging stare at Simon; but as Desford had divulged only the bare outlines of the circ.u.mstances which had led him to befriend Cherry, Simon had no comment to offer. So Mr Steane continued his narrative. "I repaired instantly to Amelia Bugle's country residence. It cost me a severe struggle to do so, but I mastered my repugnance: my parental feelings overcame all other considerations. And what was my reward? To be informed, Mr Carrington, that my innocent child had been ravished from the safety of her maternal relative's home by none other than my Lord Desford!"

"If that's what Lady Bugle told you, she was lying in her teeth!" Simon said. "He did no such thing! Lady Bugle treated Miss Steane so abominably that she ran away-meaning to seek refuge with her grandfather! All Desford did was to take her up in his curricle, when he overtook her trudging up to London!"

Mr Steane smiled pitifully at him. "Is that his story? My poor boy, it grieves me to be obliged to destroy your faith in your brother, but-"

"It needn't, for you won't do it!" interjected Simon, at white heat. "And I'll thank you not to call me your boy!"

"Young man," said Mr Steane sternly, "remember that you are speaking to one who is old enough to be your father!"

"And do you remember, sir, that you are speaking of one who is my brother!" Simon countered.

"Believe me," said Mr Steane earnestly, "I enter most sincerely into your feelings! I was never, I regret to say, blessed with a brother for whom I cherished the smallest partiality, but I can appreciate-"

"Partiality be d.a.m.ned!" interrupted Simon. "Ask anyone who knows him whether Desford is the sort of loose screw to ravish a chit of a girl away from her home! You'll get the same answer you've had from me!"

Mr Steane heaved another of his gusty sighs. "Alas, you force me to divulge to you, Mr Carrington, that I fear my unhappy child fell willingly into his arms! It rends me to the heart to be obliged to tell you this-and I need hardly describe to you how grievous a blow to me it was to learn that she had, in her innocence, succ.u.mbed to the lure of a libertine possessed of a handsome face, and engaging address. Not to mention the advantages of birth and fortune. I am led to believe that Lord Desford is possessed of these attributes?"

Revolted by this description of his eldest brother, Simon repudiated it, saying shortly: "No, he ain't! He's well-enough, I daresay-never thought about it, myself!-but as for an engaging address- ! Lord, it makes him sound like a simpering, inching macaroni merchant! I'll have you know, sir, that Desford is a gentleman! What's more, your daughter didn't fall into his arms, because he never held them out to her! Not that I mean to say she would have done so if be had, for I am not one to cast aspersions on another man's close relations! And also, Mr Steane, if you weren't old enough to be my father I'd dashed well plant you a facer for having the infernal bra.s.s to call Desford a libertine!"

Mr Steane, listening to this heated speech with unimpaired equanimity, said compa.s.sionately, at the end of it: "I perceive that he has you in a string, and deeply do I pity you! You remind me so much of what I was in my youth! Hot-headed, perhaps, but replete with generous impulses, misplaced loyalties, and a touching faith in the virtue of those whom you have been taught to revere! Sad, inexpressibly sad is it that it should have fallen to my lot to shatter that simple faith!"

"What the devil- ? demanded Simon explosively. "If you think that I was taught to revere Desford-or that I do revere him!-you're fair and far off, Mr Steane! Of course I don't! But-but-he's a d.a.m.ned good brother, and-and though I daresay he may have his faults he ain't a rabshackle-and that you may depend on!"

"Would that I could!" said Mr Steane regretfully. "Alas that I cannot!

Are you ignorant, my poor young man, of the way of life your brother has pursued since he made his come-out, and-I am compelled to say- is still pursuing?"

Simon stared at him, wrath and incredulity in his eyes. The flush that had risen to his face when he had found himself compelled to violate every canon of decent reticence by upholding Desford's virtue darkened perceptibly. In a voice stiff with pride, he said: "My good sir, if, by those-those opprobrious words you mean to say that my brother has ever, at any time, or in any way, conducted himself in a manner unbefitting a man of honour, I take leave to tell you that you have either been grossly misinformed, or-or you are a d.a.m.ned liar!" He paused, his jaw dangerously out-thrust, but as Mr Steane evinced no desire to pick up the gage so belligerently flung down, but continued to sit at his ease, blandly regarding him, he said haughtily: "I collect, sir, that when you speak of my brother's way of life, you refer to certain-certain connections he has had, from time to time, with members of the muslin company. But if you mean to tell me that you suspect him of seducing innocent females, or-or of littering the town with his b.u.t.ter-prints, you may spare your breath! As for the suggestion that he lured your daughter to elope with him-Good G.o.d, if it were not so d.a.m.ned insulting I could laugh myself into whoops at it! If he had fallen so desperately in love as to have done anything so kennel-raked, why the devil should he be doing his utmost to give her into her grandfather's keeping? Answer me that, if you can!"

Mr Steane shuddered eloquently, and replied in a manner worthy of a Kemble or a Kean: "If he has indeed done so, my dread is that he has wearied of her, and is seeking to fob her off!"

"What, in less than two days?" said Simon jeeringly. "A likely story!"

"My dear young greenhead," said Mr Steane, with a touch of asperity, "one can discover that a female is a dead bore in less than two hours!

Not that I believe this Banbury story of his having gone off to Harrowgate in search of my father! It's a bag of moonshine! The more I think about it the greater becomes my conviction that he has abducted my innocent child, and bamboozled everyone into believing that he only did so because he thought she would be happier with her grandfather than with her aunt. Now, I don't doubt she may have been unhappy in that archwife's house, but if your precious brother thought she would be happier in my father's house he might be no better than a blubber-head, which I know very well he isn't! No, no, my boy! You may swallow that Canterbury tale, but don't expect me to! The plain truth is that he's bent, on ruining my poor little Cherry, thinking that she has no one to protect her. He will discover his mistake! Her father will see her righted! Ay!

even if he-her father, I mean, or, in a word, myself!-has to publish the story of his infamy to the world! If he has the smallest claim to be a man of honour he can do no less than marry her!"

"You've taken the wrong sow by the ear, sir!" said Simon, looking at him from between suddenly narrowed eyelids. "I'm happy to be able to inform you that your daughter's reputation is unblemished! So far from being bent on ruining her, my brother was bent on ensuring that no scandal should attach to her name! And I am even happier to inform you that she is residing, thanks to Desford's forethought, in an extremely respectable household!"

It would have been too much to have said that Mr Steane's countenance betrayed chagrin, but the bland smile certainly faded from his lips, and although his voice retained its smoothness its tone was somewhat flattened when he replied to what Simon, who had formed a pretty accurate idea of his character, believed to be an unwelcome piece of information. Simon began to feel a little uneasy, and to wish that he knew where Desford was to be found. Dash it all, it was Desford's business to deal with Mr Steane, not his! Desford would be well-served if he disclosed Cherry's exact whereabouts to this old counterc.o.xcomb, and washed his hands of the whole affair.

"And where," enquired Mr Steane, "is this respectable household situated?"

"Oh, in Hertfordshire!" said Simon carelessly.

"In Hertfordshire!" said Mr Steane, sitting up with a jerk. "Can it be that I have wronged Lord Desford? Has he made her an offer? Do not be afraid to confide in me! To be sure, he should have obtained my permission to address himself to Cherry, but I am prepared to pardon that irregularity. Indeed, if he supposed me to be dead his informality must be thought excusable." He wagged a finger at Simon, and said archly: "No need to be discreet with me, my boy! I a.s.sure you I shall raise no objection to the match-provided, of course, that Lord Desford and I reach agreement over the Settlement, which I have no doubt we shall do.

Ah, you are wondering how I have guessed that the respectable household to which you referred can be none other than Wolversham! I have never had the pleasure of visiting the house, but I have an excellent memory, and as soon as you spoke of Hertfordshire I recalled, in a flash, that Wolversham is in Hertfordshire. A fine old place, I believe: I shall look forward to seeing it."

Momentarily stunned, Simon pulled himself together, and lost no time in dispelling the illusion which was obviously working powerfully on Mr Steane's mind. "Good G.o.d, no!" he said. "Of course he hasn't taken her to Wolversham! He wouldn't dare! You must know as well as I do, sir, how my father regards you-well, you've told me yourself that he gave you the cut direct, so I needn't scruple to say that nothing would ever prevail upon him to give his consent to Desford's marriage to Miss Steane! Not that there's the least likelihood of his being asked to do so, because there ain't! Desford has not made an offer, because, for one thing, he ain't in love with her; for another, there's no reason why he should; and for a third-well, never mind that!"

He had the satisfaction of seeing Mr Steane's radiant smile fade from his face, but it was short lived. A calculating look came into that gentleman's eyes, and his next words almost made the hair rise on Simon's scalp. "I fancy, young man," said Mr Steane, "that you will find you are mistaken. Yes. Very much mistaken! I can well believe that your honoured parent will not favour the match, but I venture to say that I believe he would favour still less an action of breach of promise brought against his heir."

"Breach of promise?" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Simon. "You'd catch cold at that, Mr Steane! Desford never made your daughter an offer of marriage!"

"How do you know that?" asked Mr Steane. "Were you present when he stole her out of her aunt's house?"

"No, I was not! But he told me how it came about that he was befriending Miss Steane-"

He stopped, for a slow smile had crept over Mr Steane's face, and he was shaking his head. "It is easy to see that you can have little knowledge of the law, young man. What your brother may have told you is not evidence. If it were admitted-which I can a.s.sure you it wouldn't be!-it could scarcely outweigh my unfortunate child's evidence!"

"Do you mean to say," gasped Simon, "that you think your daughter is the kind of girl who would stand up in a court of law, and commit perjury? Your memory isn't as good as you suppose, if that's what you think! Why, she's no more than a chit of a schoolgirl that hasn't cut her eye-teeth!"

"Ah!" said Mr Steane, putting Simon forcibly in mind of a cat confronted with a saucer of cream. "I collect, Mr Carrington, that you have met my little Cherry?"

"Yes, I've met her! And if she had accepted an offer from Desford, why, pray, didn't she tell me so?"

"So you have met her!" said Mr Steane thoughtfully. "No doubt in Lord Desford's company? Very significant! Ve-ry significant! One is led to suppose that he meant, at that time, to espouse her, for why, otherwise, should he have made her known to you?"

"He didn't! What I mean is," said Simon, becoming momently more hara.s.sed, "I met her at-in the house to which he took her, and Desford didn't know I was there! I mean, he didn't expect me to be there, and she wasn't in his company when I met her! She was alone, in one of the saloons, waiting for Desford to explain the circ.u.mstances to Miss-to the lady in whose charge he placed her!"

"This," said Mr Steane, in a stricken voice, "is worse than I feared!

Unhappy youth, has Lord Desford placed her in a fancy-house?"

"A fancy-No, of course he hasn't!" said Simon indignantly. "He took her to an old friend's house-a very respectable house, I'll have you know!"

"It doesn't sound like it to me," said Mr Steane simply.