Lord Lynborough completed the entry in his diary--he was tolerably well aware that he might just as well not have written it--and cast his eyes toward the window of the library. The stars were bright; a crescent moon decorated, without illuminating, the sky. The regular recurrent beat of the sea on the shore, traversing the interval in night's silence, struck on his ear. "If God knew Time, that might be His clock," said he. "Listen to its inexorable, peaceable, gentle, formidable stroke!" His sleep that night was short and broken. A fitful excitement was on his spirit: the glory of the summer morning wooed his restlessness. He would take his swim alone, and early. At six o'clock he slipped out of the house and made for Beach Path. The fortified gate was too strong for his unaided efforts. Roger Wilbraham had told him that, if the way were impeded, he had a right to "deviate." He deviated now, lightly vaulting over the four-foot-high stone wall. None was there to hinder him, and, with emotions appropriate to the occasion, he passed Nab Grange and gained the beach. When once he was in the water, the emotions went away. They were to return--or, at any rate, to be succeeded by their brethren. After he had dressed, he sat down and smoked a cigarette as he regarded the smiling sea. This situation was so agreeable that he prolonged it for full half-an-hour; then a sudden longing for Coltson's coffee came over him. He jumped up briskly and made for the Grange gate. He had left it open--it was shut now. None had been nigh when he passed through. Now a young woman in a white frock leant her elbows comfortably on its top rail and rested her pretty chin upon her hands. Lady Norah's blue eyes looked at him serenely from beneath black lashes of noticeable length--at any rate Lynborough noticed their length. Lynborough walked up to the gate. With one hand he removed his hat, with the other he laid a tentative hand on the latch. Norah did not move or even smile. "I beg your pardon, madam," said Lynborough, "but if it does not incommode you, would you have the great kindness to permit me to open the gate?" "Oh, I'm sorry; but this is a private path leading to Nab Grange. I suppose you're a stranger in these parts?" "My name is Lynborough. I live at Scarsmoor there." "Are you Lord Lynborough?" Norah sounded exceedingly interested. "_The_ Lord Lynborough?" "There's only one, so far as I'm aware," the owner of the title answered. "I mean the one who has done all those--those--well, those funny things?" "I rejoice if the recital of them has caused you any amusement. And now, if you will permit me----" "Oh, but I can't! Helena would never forgive me. I'm a friend of hers, you know--of the Marchesa di San Servolo. Really you can't come through here." "Do you think you can stop me?" "There isn't room for you to get over as long as I stand here--and the wall's too high to climb, isn't it?"