"Yes, I admit it was a _bêtíse_--but, being my real thoughts, they slipped out when I was there to-day. You will have to be extra charming to substantiate them." Before Mrs. Cricklander went to bed, she called Arabella Clinker into her room. "Arabella," she said, "who was Cheiron?" But she pronounced the "ei" as an "a," so Miss Clinker replied without any hesitation: "He was a boatman who carried the souls of the dead over the River Styx, and to whom they were obliged to pay an obolus--son of Erebus and Nox. He is represented as an old man with a hideous face and long white beard and piercing eyes." "Is there anything else I ought to know about him?" her employer asked, and Arabella thought for a moment. "There is the story of Hercules not showing the golden bow. Er--it is a little complicated and has to do with the superstitions of the ancients--er--something Egyptian, I think, for the moment--I will look it up to-morrow. I can't say offhand." "Thanks, Arabella. Good night." And it was not until after the party of four had started next morning that Miss Clinker suddenly thought, with a start: "She may have been alluding to quite the other Cheiron--the Centaur--and in that case I have given her some wrong lights!" CHAPTER XIV Cora was being more than exasperating, Mrs. Cricklander thought, as they went through the park. Not content with Lord Freynault, who was plainly devoted to her, she kept every now and then looking back at John Derringham with some lively sally, and although he was being particularly agreeable to herself, he responded to Miss Lutworth's piquant attacks with a too ready zeal. Mrs. Cricklander grew more and more certain that her hold over him had lessened in these last two days, and every force in her indomitable personality stiffened with determination to win him at all costs. The Professor received them graciously. He was seated in his library, which now was a most comfortable room surrounded with bookcases in which lived all his rare editions of loved books. Nothing could be more fascinating than Mrs. Cricklander's manner to him--a mixture of deference and friendly familiarity, as though he would appreciate the fact of a tacit understanding between them that she too had a right in John Derringham's friends. She had been so reassured by finding that Mr. Carlyon was unmarried and lived alone, that a glow of real warmth towards the Professor emanated from her, while the conviction grew that it was nothing but the influence of Cora Lutworth which had even momentarily cooled her whilom ardent friend. Mr. Carlyon's imperturbable countenance gave no hint of what he thought of her, although John Derringham watched him furtively and anxiously. He listened to their conversation when he could, and it jarred upon him twice when the lady of his choice altogether missed the point of Cheiron's subtle remarks. She whom he had always considered so understanding!