I should be only too glad to believe him innocent, but--Miss Forster, it's a tall order."

"Tell me exactly why; has he ever been suspected of such practices before?"

"Never. G.o.d forbid! To some extent I am inclined to excuse him as it is; he had been drinking too much. I think that had as much to do with it as anything."

"My dear Major Reith, that is not an excuse, but an aggravation. I have seen it written somewhere that when a man is drunk his real character is seen, because he is no longer able to hide it. If what you suggest is correct, then--Sydney Beaton must be past praying for. But it is incorrect. I am convinced that Sydney Beaton, drunk or sober, is a man of honour; else I could not love him as I do."

"But what has become of him? Do you know?"

"I do not, but I'm going to find out; so now you see why I ought to be unhappy. All these months I've been wondering where he was--waiting, longing, hoping to hear. Every post I thought would bring me news; every time that there was a telegram my heart beat a little faster. I made inquiries in my own way, but I've found nothing. All I know is that one night his brother officers attacked him--about twelve men to one. I have the charity to suppose that they were in a condition in which they did not know what they were doing. Sydney was always apt to do things first and think afterwards. I don't wonder that such treatment caused him to lose his head; I should have wondered if it hadn't. I can understand why he hasn't communicated with me; I know my Quixote. But now that all these months have gone, and there's still no news, I'm getting anxious."

"I don't wonder. Has absolutely nothing been heard of him, by anyone, by his brother?"

"Sir George Beaton would be the last to hear, if Sydney could help it.

You can be trusted to keep a secret?"

"Where you are concerned I certainly can."

"I have been a bone of contention between those two brothers since ever. George, being the head of the family, is of opinion that he has the first claim on me; as I think otherwise, he shows what seems to me to be the most unfraternal eagerness to think the very worst of Sydney.

And that seems to be the case with everyone. You all, when you come to look into the matter, seem to have discreditable reasons of your own for pretending to think ill of him."

"Am I included among that 'all'?"

"No, it happens that you're not, and that's why I'm talking to you now.

I'm going to look for Sydney; I'm going to leave no stone unturned to find out where he is. I'm getting tired of waiting; and, while I'm looking, I'm going to find out the truth of what took place on that disgraceful night. You're going to tell me all you know; I'm sure that will be the truth as far as it goes, but I'm afraid it won't go far enough. I shall have to go to other sources to get at all I want, and that is what I am presently going to do."

"How do you propose to set about it?"

"I have a friend--a very, very dear friend. You know Lady Cantyre?"

"Who doesn't? Saving your presence, is there anyone better worth knowing?"

"Saving nothing, there isn't; and she's my very, very dear friend. She knows the pickle I'm in and she's going to help me; this is between ourselves, mind. I want to get at Mr. Noel Draycott under circ.u.mstances in which he will find it hard to get away. She has asked him down to Avonham, and I shall be there to meet him; before we part I shall find out a great deal more about what Mr. Noel Draycott really did see, as well as about other things, than he in the least antic.i.p.ates."

"I can quite believe it; when a man like Draycott is concerned, I should imagine that you could turn him inside out like an old glove."

"I don't know about the old glove, but I do mean to do something like turn him inside out, and the process is going to begin next week.

Sydney has been too long under a cloud which was none of his making; I am going to bring him out from under it into the sun. I am going to do it single-handed; and it's because I am so sure that I shall do it that I cannot be unhappy. Major Reith, I talk like a braggart of doing it all single-handed; but all the same I am conscious that occasion may arrive when I shall require some a.s.sistance; if I do, will you give it?"

"I will give you, very gladly, all the a.s.sistance which, in such a position, a man may give to a woman."

"Then--that's all right. Thank you, Major Reith."

In her left hand she had the bunch of primroses, which she held close to her face; her right she held out to him.

CHAPTER XII

"What Does it Mean?"

The night of the Easter Ball--the event of the year at Avonham.

The Countess of Cantyre, on her way to the scene of action, looked in on Miss Violet Forster. That young lady, apparently already fully equipped, seated in an arm-chair, was studying what seemed to be a small memorandum book. She looked up as the Countess entered. Her ladyship came well into the centre of the room, drew herself to her full height, which was less than she would have liked it to be, and slowly revolved in a complete circle, by way of exhibiting her plumes for the lady's inspection. When she had made an end, she prompted the criticism which did not come.

"Well?"

"Excellent."

"You think I shall do?"

"Margaret, you're a dream of delight."

"You really think so? You like the dress? I was afraid there was a little too much on the bodice."

"There is nothing anywhere which could be altered in the slightest degree for the better; the gown and the wearer are perfectly matched: they are both lovely."

Her ladyship dropped a curtsy.

"Thank you, that's just what I wanted you to say. Now you stand up, and I'll give you my candid opinion."

"Very much obliged, but I'm not sure that I want it; I'm not the Countess of Cantyre. Who cares what I look like?"

"You little humbug! It's only your conceit; it's simply that you take it for granted that you always look your best, which couldn't be improved." Her ladyship was arranging the drapery of her skirt as she glanced in the mirror. "What have you got out of Noel Draycott?"

"Nothing, as yet. I haven't tried; but I shall. I mean to drop a bomb at his feet at the moment he least expects it."

"If it's to be to-night, don't let it go off with too loud a bang. I don't know if I told you that the whole regiment has decided to come.

They telegraphed this afternoon that they would all be able to get off, as I understand, to a man. You'll have a chance of dropping a bombsh.e.l.l at the feet of every one of them."

"I should like to. Every time I look at Mr. Noel Draycott I feel--I can't tell you what I feel."

"Any news of the absentee?"

"None; but I'm beginning to dream of him again."

"You'd better be careful what you have for dinner; eat nothing for at least three hours before you go to bed."

"Last night I dreamt that he was starving; and to save himself from starving he was doing something so awful that it woke me up, and I lay wide awake, trembling with terror."

"You poor child! You may congratulate yourself that it was a dream. Are you coming? I must be off."

"I'll follow in a minute or two; don't you wait for me."

Left alone, the girl tried to resume her study of the small volume she was holding; but the effort seemed in vain. Her eyes refused to be fixed upon the page; they stared into vacancy at something which was not there. She rose; placing the little book in a leather case which stood upon the dressing-table, she pressed down the lid, which shut with a spring.

"It's very odd, but I seem to feel that something is going to happen to-night; I wonder what it is?"