Monty turned ghastly pale. Surely his last sin had not found him out. He was silent, but there was no need for speech. Da Souza motioned him to sit down. “I am very sorry,” he said, “of course it's true. The police have been here.” “The police!” Monty moaned. Da Souza nodded. Benevolence was so rare a part for him to play, that he rather enjoyed it. “Don't be scared,” he said. “Yes, your description is out, and you are wanted for stealing a few pounds from a man named Walsh. Never mind. I won't give you up. You shall lie snug here for a few days!” Monty fell on his knees. “You won't let any one know that I am here!” he pleaded. “Not I,” Da Souza answered fervently. Monty rose to his feet, his face full of dumb misery. “Now,” he muttered, “I shall never see her--never--never--never!” There was a bottle half full of spirits upon the table and a tumbler as yet unused. A gleam flashed in his eyes. He filled the tumbler and raised it to his lips. Da Souza watched him curiously with the benevolent smile still upon his face. CHAPTER XXXII “You are very smart, Ernestine,” he said, looking her admiringly. “One must be smart at Ascot,” she answered, “or stay away.” “I've just heard some news,” he continued. “Yes?” “Who do you think is here?” She glanced at him sideways under her lace parasol. “Every one I should think.” “Including,” he said, “Mr. Scarlett Trent!” She grew a shade paler, and leaned for a moment against the rail of the paddock in which they were lounging. “I thought,” she said, “that the Mazetta Castle was not due till to-day.” “She touched at Plymouth in the night, and he had a special train up. He has some horses running, you know.” “I suppose,” she remarked, “that he is more of a celebrity than ever now!” “Much more,” he answered. “If he chooses he will be the lion of the season! By the by, you had nothing of interest from Fred?” She shook her head impatiently. “Nothing but praises! According to Fred, he's a hero!” “I hate him,” Davenant said sulkily. “And so,” she answered softly, “do I! Do you see him coming, Cecil?” “In good company too,” the young man laughed bitterly. A little group of men, before whom every one fell back respectfully, were strolling through the paddock towards the horses. Amongst them was Royalty, and amongst them also was Scarlett Trent. But when he saw the girl in the white foulard smile at him from the paling he forgot etiquette and everything else. He walked straight across to her with that keen, bright light in his eyes which Fred had described so well in his letter. “I am very fortunate,” he said, taking the delicately gloved hand into his fingers, “to find you so soon. I have only been in England a few hours.”