“Yes, sir, she is in the drawing-room with Captain Kilmarnock.” He walks slowly upstairs. All is very silent in the room mentioned. He stands on the threshold, hardly daring to open the door. He can hear a rustling inside, and, yes, unmistakably the sound of a kiss. He coughs audibly as he lays his hand on the door’s handle. He can hear a scuffling of feet, and on entering perceives Vivi sitting bolt upright on the sofa, and Captain Kilmarnock apparently warming his hands over the fireplace. Unfortunately there is no fire! She looks at him as he comes in, and for a moment their eyes meet. A bright flush rises to Vivi’s cheeks. She expects to see him furious, as he had been that morning, and is surprised, nay, even awed by the sad expression on his face. “Vivi,” he says very quietly, “I think we ought to be dressing for dinner. Good-evening to you, Kilmarnock. Are you to be at Ferdey’s to-night?” “No, Trevor,” stammers the captain, visibly uncomfortable. “I have another engagement.” “Oh, well, shall see you again, I suppose, soon? Good-night, old chap. Must go and dress. Vivi dear, don’t be late.” He goes out as he speaks, and closes the door behind him. Hector D’Estrange’s words are still next his heart. “Poor Vivi,” he mutters to himself. “It is not her fault. Poor Vivi.” He is hardly out of the room, when she looks up at Captain Kilmarnock. The scared expression is still in her face. “Kil,” she whispers, “that _was_ a near squeak. You had better be off, old man. Didn’t hear the front door bell ring, did you?” “No,” he answers in a rather sulky tone. “Hang him! He’s always where he’s not wanted. But you are right. I’d better be off. To-morrow at three. Don’t forget.” “All right,” she answers, with a smile. [Illustration] CHAPTER III. Always busy and astir, the little town of Melton Mowbray presents a more than usually busy aspect on the morning of the 15th April, 1894. It is early yet, nevertheless the streets ring with the sound of trotting and cantering hacks, as well as the more sober paces of the strings of horses returning from exercise to their respective stables. People are coming and going at a rapid rate. They nearly all seem to know each other, judging by the little nods, and “good-mornings,” and suchlike familiar greetings with which friends meet, and in which these afore-mentioned personages indulge, as they hurry by each other. A party of horsemen and horsewomen are just riding out of the stables belonging to The Limes. They are laughing and talking merrily. We have seen two of the women before, and their names are Mrs. de Lacy Trevor and Lady Manderton. Close in attendance upon them are two smart good-looking men, whom we must introduce to the reader as Lord Charles Dartrey and the Earl of Westray. The former appears to be entirely taken up with the first-named lady, the latter—already introduced to the reader in a former chapter as Lord Altai—with the last-named one.