"Parliament."

Signor Ricordo laughed.

"You seem amused, signore. You are more merry than usual to-night. You like Mr. Briarfield. Do you not think he would be a good husband to our guardian angel?"

"I will tell you after Friday night."

"Why then?"

"Because I shall then have seen the lady of whom you have told me such wondrous things. I mean to be introduced to her, to talk with her. Ah!"

Herr Trubner looked towards his companion as he heard his exclamation.

For once he saw that Signor Ricordo's eyes were wide open, and that a look which he never saw before rested on his face. But only for a moment. His eyes soon became half-closed again, and the air of cynical melancholy came back to him.

"We have some more visitors, I see," he said, nodding towards two men who had just entered the room.

The German turned, and saw two strangers take their seats.

"Got any cigars on you, Purvis?" he heard one say. "I left mine in another pocket, and I don't suppose we can get anything here fit to smoke."

In reply, the other pulled his case from his pocket, and the two talked in low tones together.

"Yes, Herr Trubner," said Signore Ricordo, "I look forward towards an interesting evening on Friday."

CHAPTER XXI

A GAME OF GOLF--A GAME OF LIFE

"I wish I hadn't come here, Purvis."

"Why not?"

"Well, you know how I feel."

Purvis shrugged his shoulders.

"Your mistake can easily be remedied, Sprague. You have only to take the train from Vale Linden station, and then you can go to Ilfracombe or Westward Ho! or, for that matter, return to London."

"Yes, I know; and I know, too, that it was through me you came down here. All the same, I feel jolly mean. Do you know, although that letter meant the smashing up of the engagement, and thus saving her life from ruin, she has never acknowledged it, and, for that matter, has never spoken to me since. Not that I expected grat.i.tude, at least for a time, but after six years----"

"You know we both left England for a long sojourn abroad, directly we knew that the bubble had burst."

"Yes, I know; still, I did think that out of pure grat.i.tude she might have----"

"She's not that sort, Sprague. Follow my example, and think no more about her. Hang it, we are not children; and she's not the only woman in the world. She gave us both our _conge_; let us take it graciously, and enjoy our golf."

"I wish I could forget her, old man; but I can't. I don't feel comfortable. For all these six years I've never forgotten her, and when Leicester made an end of himself, I said to myself, 'In two or three years' time she'll feel so grateful to me that----' Well, you know what I thought. But she's never recognised me in any way. Other people we know have been invited to Vale Linden, but I've never been one of the lucky ones. That was why I urged you to come with me to this place of hers. It meant having a chance of seeing her, and I hoped that she would feel kindly towards me."

"Well, she may. Who knows?"

"I wonder how she feels about Leicester now?"

"Most likely she's forgotten him."

"Hardly."

"Why not?"

"Well, you see, she's married no one else."

"I make nothing of that. Besides, if she really loved him, do you think she'd have thrown him over?"

"Yes," said Sprague, after a moment's hesitation.

"How do you make it out?"

"No woman with such pride as Olive has could have married him after the letter I wrote. I presented a strong case, man. You see, Leicester gave himself away so completely, that I had only to quote his exact words to prove--well, exactly what I wanted to prove. At any rate, she did throw him over."

"Do you think Leicester really cared for her?"

"Heaven only knows. It was impossible for any one to tell exactly what he felt. At any rate, he went the whole hog afterwards, and then killed himself. Do you know, although the fellow's end was so terribly sad, I heaved a sigh of relief when I saw the report in the newspapers? If he'd lived--well, I don't like to think what would have happened to either of us. You know that terrible look in his eyes when he threatened us."

"Yes; but, after all, what could he do?"

"There's no knowing what a fellow like Leicester would have done. But there, he's dead, and that's an end of it."

The two men climbed the hill towards the moors in silence. Some distance behind, two boys followed, carrying their golf clubs.

"I suppose all this land around here belongs to John Castlemaine,"

remarked Purvis presently.

"I suppose so. I say, Purvis, did you notice what a mixed lot we are at The Homestead?"

"Rather; but I like it. They do things very well there, too. Of course, it was never intended for the likes of us; yet I am sure there are people there who have no need to economise. Some one told me that a neighbouring squire was dining there last night; and did you notice that Turkish chap?"

"Yes; remarkable-looking fellow, isn't he? He makes one think of vampires. Still, I hear he's a good sort. I should like to have a chat with him."

"Well, that should be easy enough. Somebody told me he had gone on the links. We may see him there."

They made their way to the club-house, and prepared to commence their game. A couple of men were on the first tee, waiting to start.

"We shan't have to wait long," said Purvis. "I say, there is that Turkish fellow. I think he's looking for a match."

"Surely he won't be able to play."