Peckover, reduced to an apprehensive and gloomy silence, noticed that Quorn's eyes were fixed on Ulrica with a look of unmistakable and more than passing admiration. The aggressive manner was softening too, clearly for the lady's benefit, and indeed Miss Buffkin showed signs of a temptation to laugh at the embarrassment of her cavalier. "Right you are," Peckover said, nodding to Quorn as pleasantly as the situation permitted, and at the same time trying to get a chance of winking at Ulrica to intimate thereby that she need not take the new-comer seriously. "Well, we must be getting up to the Towers now." But Quorn showed no intention of budging from their path. His eyes were still fixed in the same resolute admiration on the fascinating Ulrica, and it was manifest that the spell of her beauty was holding him more strongly every moment. "You run off to the Towers, old man," he ordered Peckover, with a wave of the arm, while his eyes never left the object of their attraction. "You're wanted up there at once. I'll escort the lady." There was a note of determination in his voice that Peckover had not noticed before. Doubtless it was derived from the enchantment of Miss Buffkin's personality. Peckover dared not disobey. Happily a ruse suggested itself to him. He nodded to Ulrica; "See you again presently," and made off down the winding path. Scarcely had Quorn time to pull himself together in his overmastering admiration, and frame the preamble of a rough flirtation, when Peckover came rushing back with apprehensive face. "Well, what's the matter now?" Quorn demanded, upset by the interruption. "Lions on the prowl," Peckover announced in a loud whisper. "Lions?" cried the exasperated Quorn. "What do you mean. You must be dr----" Then the meaning flashed upon him, and he grew white. "Not Leos?" he demanded hoarsely. Peckover nodded warningly. "Both of 'em. Looking nasty. They'll be round the corner in a moment." Lord Quorn had decided before that moment elapsed not to stay to test the truth of the statement. With an exclamation which savoured less of good manners than of abject, if wrathful, fear, he sprang without a word of leave-taking or excuse into the bushes and disappeared. Then Peckover winked at the astounded Miss Buffkin. "That was clever of you," she remarked with a puzzled laugh. "How did you do it?" "Superior power of intellect," was his somewhat vague and unsatisfying explanation. "Mind can start muscle any day. Never mind that poor chap. Where did we leave off?" "You wouldn't," she replied significantly. "If I remember rightly." "No more I won't," Peckover exclaimed, with boldness increased by his late coup. "Wasn't I just----? I don't mind beginning again, if you don't." His impudence made her burst out laughing. "You are absurd. And you are not treating your friend well."