He knew English women wore little jewelry during the day so he could not estimate the value of what they owned at a luncheon, but he was certain Miss Barham's mother, who was addressed as Lady Harriet, had family jewels worth the risk of seeking to get. A woman whose husband owned a two-hundred feet steam yacht was distinctly among those whom in former days he had been professionally eager to meet.

Before the luncheon Lady Daphne had explained that her brother would not be at the table. The family was anxious that he should not be subjected to the confusion of professing ignorance of some man or event which he ought to know. By degrees he was getting his bearings and reading through files of old newspapers the main events of the years that had been wiped from his mind.

Anthony Trent was taken to the big room by a footman, the same room he had entered unannounced.

"You must have thought me awfully rude," Arthur Grenvil said cordially, "but my sister had told you the reason. She says I used to know you."

Grenvil looked at him wistfully, "I think she said I had saved your life."

"You did," Trent answered promptly. And then, because he was sorry for the ex-"Tommy" but more because he loved the other's sister, he plunged into a stirring account of the incident omitting the part of the exchange of confidences.

"Apparently," said Grenvil, "it was the only decent thing I did during those dreadful forgotten years. If you knew the agony of not knowing what I did and dreading every day to learn something more of my career you'd pity me. I couldn't meet Castoon. They say I was a sort of secretary to him for six months and he had to send me away. All I remember of him is that he was my father's private secretary when I was a small boy of ten and my father amba.s.sador at Constantinople. I'm afraid to see any of the people who come here."

"That will pa.s.s," Trent said rea.s.suringly, "you'll get a grip on yourself as your health improves."

"That's what Daphne says," Arthur answered, "Isn't she splendid?"

"Indeed she is," Trent said not daring to put the fervor in his voice that he felt. There was almost an uncanny feeling in talking with this new Arthur Grenvil. As a judge of men, and as a man who had met a great number of criminals and could estimate them accurately, Trent had known even in the darkness of the dug-out that Private William Smith was bad.

Despite the absence of coa.r.s.eness from the speech of the unseen man Trent had felt that he was evil and dangerous, a man to watch carefully.

And this same man stripped of his mantle of black deeds was now sitting talking to him with the deferential air of the junior listening with respect to his superior in years and his superior in knowledge.

What a _role_ for Anthony Trent, master criminal! But he played it as well as any of the parts he had set himself to enact. He became the elder brother, the sage counsellor, the arbiter, the physical trainer and the constant companion. In the beginning he cheerfully set out to play the part in order to win Daphne's approval. Later he really liked Arthur. He taught him to drive the high powered Lion car that was seldom used by the earl's chauffeurs and discovered in him an apt.i.tude for mechanics which delighted his father.

"You have done more for my son than I imagined could be done by anyone,"

Lord Rosecarrel said gratefully.

"I owe him no small debt," Anthony Trent retorted, "and it's a very pleasant way of trying to pay it."

It was not often that he saw the earl. Occasionally they played a game of billiards after dinner but the elder man was constantly occupied with reading when he was not aboard his boat. Since he had come to Cornwall, Trent had discovered what an important personage Lord Rosecarrel had been in the political life of his country until his sudden resignation a year before the war. Every now and then Trent would see regret expressed in a London paper or weekly review that he would not place his vast knowledge of the near East at his country's disposal.

There was still considerable trouble centering about the Balkans; and since the earl had been minister or amba.s.sador at Belgrade, Bucharest and Constantinople he knew the country as few could hope to do without his experience.

The prime minister himself, s.n.a.t.c.hing a few days of golf at Newquay, motored over to the castle to lunch and asked his host personally to come from his retirement. It happened that Trent was lunching at the castle and heard the earl's decision not to leave private life. There was an incident in connection with this which made a curious impression on the American.

When he had declined to represent his country finally, Lord Rosecarrel looked over the table at his son who was talking gaily and did not observe the glance. It was a look almost of hate that the earl flashed at him. Then it pa.s.sed and was succeeded by the melancholy which the old aristocrat's face habitually wore. Trent was certain none had seen but he and he had never seen an evidence of it before.

He reflected that Arthur was never wholly at ease in his father's company. Again and again he had caught a certain shamed look when the earl was speaking. Of course it was the knowledge of how in the forgotten years he had disgraced an honored name. That was understandable. But why should the father who knew all and had forgiven suddenly throw this look of hate over the table at the unconscious son?

"Arthur," said Trent one day to Lady Daphne, "looks as if he were still begging forgiveness. Why?"

"It must be fancy on your part," she said and changed the subject instantly.

He supposed it was some other skeleton, from that full closet, whose rattling bones had not been buried yet. There was something which still rankled in the earl's memory. He knew he would never find its origin from Daphne.

His intimacy with the Grenvils began to alarm him. It was a fellowship which must sooner or later come to an end. He was utterly without vanity when it came to his relationship with Lady Daphne; but his love for her gave him such an insight and sympathy with her that he could not but be conscious that of late a softer mood had come to her when they were alone together.

He knew that she looked for his presence where before she had been indifferent. Sometimes when they touched hands at parting there was the faint, lingering hold which said more than looks or spoken words. It distressed him to hear that she had defended him valiantly when the wife of a nearby landowner had referred to him as an American adventurer and fortune hunter. Daphne had sprung to his rescue in a flash. Half the country gossiped about it. It was very loyal of her, he felt, but also very unwise.

The earl had heard of it and was displeased. But he trusted his daughter and Trent was working amazing changes with Arthur. It was only when the prime minister spoke of the American that Lord Rosecarrel knew he must not ignore the thing any longer.

"And who is the good looking lad upon whose words your daughter hangs?"

"A delightful fellow," the earl said, "I don't know what Arthur would have done without him. He is reconstructing the poor boy."

And indeed the earl was fond of the stranger. But his daughter must marry into her own station in life. His other girl's home was in France and he wanted Daphne to remain in England. It occurred to him as very strange that he had made so few inquiries into Trent's antecedents. He supposed it was the man's personal charm and the fact that he was himself not in good health that had allowed him to be careless. One day at a dinner that came in the week after the prime minister's visit, a dinner to which Trent alone was bidden, he said:

"We shall miss you very much when you have to go, Mr. Trent, but I suppose your affairs in America call you imperatively."

Anthony Trent made no answer for the moment. It was as though sentence of death had been pa.s.sed upon him. He could only admit that this was the logical if long-delayed end to the pleasantest days of his life. He had brought it on himself by his own weakness. For all his strength he was in some ways deplorably weak. He had been weak to leave the ways of honest men. Primarily he had none of those grudges against organized society which drive some men to crime. He had fallen because he was tired of narrow ways of life and a toil which offered few high rewards.

And, more than all, he had been weak in that he had encouraged an intimacy with a family of this type. The Lady Daphne was not for him. He called to mind a phrase that Miss Barham had said about Castoon at this very table. She had said there was nothing financially shady about him which might prevent marriage between him and Daphne. No matter how much Anthony Trent sought to deceive himself about his way of crime and comfort himself with the reflection he never despoiled the poor or worthy but inevitably set himself against the rich and undeserving, he knew he stood condemned in the eyes of decent men and women. He was aware that Daphne and Arthur were listening for his answer. Daphne's face was white.

"I shall miss you all, sir," he said, "more than I can say."

"You are not really going?" Arthur cried.

"I must," he said. "My affairs at home need looking after and I have lingered on here forgetting everything."

Lady Daphne said nothing. He did not dare to look at her. He knew she was thinking that but for her father's mention of his leaving she might not have known until he chose to tell; and he had told another first.

Because he was grateful that Trent had been quick to take the hint the Earl of Rosecarrel was particularly gracious to his guest and proposed a game of billiards.

It was while the old n.o.bleman was making a break that Daphne dropped into a chair at Trent's side.

"Are you really going?" she asked.

"I ought never to have stayed so long," he answered.

"Do you want to go?"

"You know I don't," he said pa.s.sionately.

"And is your business so important?"

"Wait," he said rising to his feet when his opponent had finished a break of fifty-three. "It's my turn."

"I have never," said the earl, chalking his cue, "seen you miss that particular shot before."

Anthony Trent came to the girl's side.

"We can't talk here," he whispered. "The hounds meet at Michaelstowe tomorrow and draw the Trenewth covers. Will you be out?"

"Yes," she said, "but what chance shall we have to talk there?"

"We can lose the field," he said, "and ride back over the moors alone."