Day was breaking and birds were stirring in the mist of greenness that topped his windows, before his eye-lids closed and he slipped off into forgetfulness.

V

"To-morrow's another new day," he thought as he awoke. One could meet any and every indebtedness to life if he only had a sufficient fund of to-morrows in his bank.

He looked at his watch and leapt out of bed. Nine o'clock! He had slept late. He didn't hurry over his dressing. He could afford to be late for once. The mood of conquest was upon him. Maisie had said that. No, it wasn't _the mood_ but _the air_ of conquest that she'd said he had.

Whichever it was, he would prove her a true prophetess. He might not gain all his desires, but he'd at least wear the air of one who was going to gain them. To-morrow was another new day, and to-morrow had arrived.

On coming down to breakfast he scrutinized Ann's features closely to learn whether she had heard anything from Braithwaite. They told him nothing. Presently, however, while she served him, she began to open out.

"Did your Lordship speak to the gentleman at the War Office?"

Tabs had been glancing through the morning paper. He looked up. "Yes, I did, Ann. I placed your letter in his hands, and saw him read it."

"Did he say anything or promise anything to your Lordship?"

Tabs pursed his lips judicially, trying to avoid a lie. "You know what these War Office officials are. They never make promises to any one. But I believe this one's a good-hearted chap. When he realizes how much this thing means to you, I think he'll do his best."

"Then he didn't show your Lordship my letter?"

Tabs had dipped into his newspaper again. He detested the well-meant deceit he was compelled to practice. This time, when he answered, he didn't raise his eyes. "No, he didn't."

But she didn't efface herself, as he had expected. She stood there, to one side of his chair. He felt that she was looking down at him. Just above the edge of his paper he could see her hands clasped together, pressing against each other in agitation. He abandoned his refuge and dropped the paper to the carpet.

"Something more that you want to ask me? What is it?"

"Your Lordship said that when the gentleman realized how much all this meant to me, he'd do his best."

"That's what I said and I'm sure of it."

"What I wanted to ask was, does your Lordship think he has realized?"

It was the way she said it that roused his curiosity. Could she have guessed? Had she read the address on that letter which he had given her to post to General Braithwaite, and put two and two together?

He met her eyes--good, gray eyes, with something of Lady Dawn's grave honesty in their expression. "I think he has realized."

"Thank you, sir; and I'm sorry I had to trouble you."

She withdrew, leaving him with the disturbing sense that she had intended more than she had said. He gathered up the paper from the floor in the hope that a perusal of it might enable him to recover his lost equanimity. In so doing he caught sight of the last page, which contained the photographic items. Braithwaite's face stared up at him.

Above it was printed the caption, "_Youngest Ranker Brigadier Demobbed Yesterday_."

If she had seen that, she knew. If she had seen it, what would be her next move--appeal or revenge? What had been the significance of her final question, "Does your Lordship think he has realized?" Did she know now; had she even known when she had written her letter that it would be received by Braithwaite himself?

If she didn't know and had not seen the paper, he was determined that she should not see it. Before leaving the room, he stuffed it into the empty grate and applied a match. He would play fair by Braithwaite. He was so eager to play fair that he did not turn to go upstairs till every vestige of print had been licked to ashes.

VI

His library occupied the whole of the second story; even at that it was not very large. It had two long French windows, opening onto a veranda which looked out over the Square. The veranda was constructed of wrought iron, painted green, and ran straight across the front of the house. Ann used it for giving her plants an airing; they usually formed a truant garden beyond the panes. There was a smaller window at the back, from which a view could be obtained of the Oratory.

The room was furnished in English red lacquer, which had been transferred from the collection at Taborley House, when Taborley House had been lent to the Americans for a military hospital. The walls were hung with landscapes by Zuccarelli and with Chinese portrait-groups of the Eighteenth Century.

He had scarcely entered before the telephone renewed its irritating clamor, like a fretful child which yelled whenever it heard his footstep. He responded to its fretfulness in very much the same mood, seizing hold of the receiver as though he would shake it into silence.

"Yes. Hullo! Hullo! Yes, this is Lord Taborley. What's that? You didn't catch what I---- It's Lord Taborley speaking, I said."

"Well, I must say you don't sound very nice." It was a woman's amused voice. "Even at this distance, you make me almost afraid. I do hope you haven't been like that all night."

Tabs made his tones more smiling. "I'm sorry if I don't sound sufficiently pleasant. But who are you?"

"Well, who do you think?" There was a s.n.a.t.c.h of laughter. "I'm Maisie; I mean Mrs. Lockwood. You needn't tell me that you're not frowning, because I can feel it. What's the matter?"

He pulled a wry face at himself in the opposite mirror and shrugged his shoulders. Down the 'phone he said with excessive amiability, "Nothing.

I'm top-hole. How are you feeling?"

Her answer came back like a flash, "Vulgar and not very safe." It was followed by a gurgle of merriment.

"I'm not sure that I understand your symptoms."

The gurgle was repeated. "You wouldn't. Lord Taborley never feels vulgar and he's always safe. But this is one of my vulgar days, when I'm not to be trusted. I always have one when Di has been to visit me; it's the relapse after contact with too high standards of respectability. I'm liable to do anything. I married Gervis and Lockwood after being with her. I shall break out to-day if you don't come at once and stop me.

Unless--unless you don't want to stop me and would prefer the experiment of being vulgar together."

"The prospect sounds alluring." He was trying to let her down lightly.

"But I'm afraid I have too many engagements on hand."

"Oh!" It was the _oh_ of disappointment. When she spoke again her gay irresponsibility had vanished and a coaxing quality had come into her voice. "I know you've only just got home from being with me--I mean comparatively speaking. I don't want to make myself a burden to you, but---- It's such a jolly day. Have you been up long enough to look out of the window? I thought we could go off somewhere--to the Zoo, perhaps, and drink lemonade all among the monkeys and the nuts. I woke up planning it. We'd limit our spending money to five shillings like kiddies, and do all our riding on busses. Doesn't that sound jolly?"

"Immensely," he agreed; "but I'm afraid no amount of jolliness could tempt----"

She broke in on him. "It's the kind of thing I used to do with Adair."

The meaning of this last remark was plain; she was reminding him that if the pair of shoes vacated by Adair were to remain vacated, he must pay the promised price on occasions by wearing them himself. He determined to get behind her diplomatic hints with frankness.

"I don't want you to think, Mrs. Lockwood, that because I have to refuse your first request I'm going back on our contract. There'll be plenty of other opportunities."

He caught her sigh of relief across the line. When she spoke again it was with a new brightness and reasonableness. "I'm glad you said that.

So you really are going to help me? I was a wee bit afraid that you'd gone back on your bargain by the way you ran away."

It was his first experience of the advantage a woman gains when she attacks a man from the other end of a telephone. He had trouble in making his voice sound patient. He replied with conscious hypocrisy, "I'm sorry I created the impression of running away."

"You did." Her answer came back promptly. "You created the same impression on us both. I had to do a lot of explaining to Di."

"And I was trying to save you embarra.s.sment," he excused himself.

"Eh! What's that?"

To his immense surprise a third voice--a man's--jumped in on the conversation. "Are you there? Is this Lord Taborley?"