Peckover considered a moment, then replied with a nod at Quorn, "You'd better ask him." Gage did accordingly ask him. "Mind your own business," was the unsatisfactory answer. "If you are Lord Quorn nobody else can be. But it would be interesting to know how you came into the title." "What the deuce does it matter," Peckover protested. "That conundrum will keep. That little devil will be back here directly. What we've got to talk about is how we are going to tackle him." The suggestion was so profoundly to the point that a depressing silence fell on the trio. They all three jumped when Bisgood came in softly to announce that dinner had been ready half-an-hour. "Dinner?" cried Gage. "No dinner for me. I'm off." "Don't be silly," Peckover remonstrated. "We'll have our dinner first. A bottle of champagne is the stuff to bring us into condition. Come on, Jenkins, old man. You're dining with us to-night." An exacting afternoon had left the trio in a state so low that sustenance was imperative, wherefore they went gloomily in to dinner. The meal was taken hurriedly, and, with regard to the wine, copiously. So by degrees they began to feel in a less abject state of panic. "Why did we let that fool of a detective talk himself off the premises?" said Peckover regretfully. "Anyhow, we had better have the local man up here in case that nuisance of a duke tries his 'Come into the garden, Maud,' again with us." "What good will that chaw in uniform be against that little devil?" objected Gage drearily. "He's somebody," urged Peckover. "And he's got the law behind him." "And the traditions of the Saloljas in front of him," rejoined Gage. Nevertheless, to strengthen the garrison, the local constable was sent for, and the three resumed their repast with a slightly enhanced appetite. They had arrived at the sweets stage, and Peckover was wondering whether it was the last apple-tart he was destined to taste, when a clangorous peal at the bell followed by a thundering knock at the door sent the diners' hearts into their mouths. "If--if that is the Duke of Salolja," said Gage, sick with fear, to Bisgood, "show him into the library. Don't let him--that is, his grace, come in here." "Very good, my lord," responded Bisgood, whose imperturbability--and immunity--he would have given a fortune to possess. None of the three men could sit quiet. Gage, after a restless turn round the table, went to the door and listened. As he did so a shade of relief came over his face. "That's not the little brute's voice," he declared hopefully. "Isn't it? He has got so many," Peckover said dubiously. They scuttled back to their places as the men returned. "Mr. Carnaby Leo, my lord," Bisgood announced in a tone which suggested a month's notice on his part. "Has he gone?" "No, my lord. He said he must see your lordship, so I showed him into the library." "Miss Leo is not with him?" Quorn asked anxiously.