Major Elwell gazed around at them all through his eye-glass and looked back at the woman by his side. He seemed bewildered. 'What in the name of all that's holy is this?' he demanded. There was a moment's silence. Lavendale drew a long breath. His arm was stretched out accusingly towards his host. Suddenly the words failed upon his lips. He looked around him, speechless, amazed. It was as though the whole world had gone mad. Mr. Barracombe, from the opposite side of the table, had removed his spectacles from his nose and was wiping the tears from his eyes. Lady Marsham was leaning on one side, doubled up. There was only one common sound everywhere--laughter, irresistible, compelling, unmistakable. Mr. Silburn, taking off his pince-nez and struggling for composure, rose to his feet. 'The sentence of the court upon you two,' he declared unsteadily, 'would have been delivered with more solemnity but for the premature arrival of our friend Jack Elwell. I hereby pronounce it, however, finally and irrevocably. It is this, Ambrose Lavendale--that you offer your arm to Miss de Freyne, that you lead the way in to supper, and that you produce your marriage certificate within three weeks.' Almost as he spoke, lights flashed out from the great room below. A long table was laid for supper. There were servants who seemed to appear like magic, with bottles and dishes. Lavendale turned towards Elwell, looked back at his host and finally down at Suzanne. 'Suzanne,' he exclaimed, 'I believe we're spoofed!' She shook her head. There were tears of relief in her eyes, but a delicious curve of laughter upon her lips. 'I do not know the word,' she admitted, 'but I believe it is true.' 'Lead the way, young fellow,' Mr. Silburn insisted. 'Forgive us, you two, but when we heard of Miss de Freyne down at the village, making inquiries about us--well, you remember I had to leave Harvard for a practical joke!' 'All the same,' Lydia Silburn declared from the background, 'the sentence of the court is final.' They took their places, and the supper party very soon became a much gayer meal than the dinner which had preceded it. Towards its close, Lavendale whispered to Suzanne. 'Dear,' he said, 'I'm afraid we'll have to own up that we haven't been quite as astute as usual. Perhaps we are getting a little stale. Supposing we take--a holiday?' She flashed a wonderful smile up at him. 'It was the sentence of the court,' she murmured. THE END _Printed in Great Britain by_ Butler & Tanner, _Frome and London_ * * * * * _The Novels of_ _E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM_