Spruce rose with a yawn. "I fancy Madame Alpenny will have a word or two to say to that, my dear fellow. Why don't you skip now?" "Because I admire Zara and mean to give her the chance of accepting or rejecting me," said Hench doggedly. "Also, I can't leave London for a few weeks, as I have to interview my father's lawyers." "What about?" "I can't tell you. My father left certain papers with his lawyers which were to be given to me when I attained the age of twenty-five. My birthday arrives shortly, and then I'll see what is to be done." "It sounds like a mystery," yawned Spruce, apparently in a listless manner, but secretly all agog to learn what the lawyers of his friend knew; "Madame Alpenny says you are a mystery." "Me!" Hench laughed scornfully; "why, there's nothing mysterious about me. As you said just now, I am a simple person who places all his cards on the table." "Yes"--Spruce nodded--"more fool you. Now, if you will only allow that old woman to think that there really is a mystery connected with you--and there seems to be so far as this legal interview is concerned--she may give you a chance of becoming her daughter's husband." "Perhaps! But why does she think me a mystery?" "I can't tell you. She was very vague about the matter. She declares that she has seen you somewhere and that you have a history." "History be hanged. My father had sufficient money to travel about and put me to school at Winchester. When I left I joined him, and we went through Europe to this place and that until he died and was buried in Paris. What mystery is there about that?" "None. But your family----?" "I haven't got any save my father, who is dead. And he told me very little about himself or his belongings. We are a Welsh family, I believe." "Hench isn't a Welsh name." "Owain is, anyhow, and the spelling is old Welsh," retorted the other. "True. We used to rag you about the spelling at school. Well, with such a name as that, you might find out the truth about your family." "I'm not curious." "You should be then, as I would be if I were in your shoes. For all you know there may be a title and money waiting for you." "Oh, rubbish! Well, you can tell Madame Alpenny what I have told you. No. On second thoughts, I'll tell her myself. She and her mystery, indeed!" and with a scornful nod Hench left the bleak smoking-room. Spruce reflected that Hench was a simpleton to be so frank about his private affairs, and had not changed, so far as trusting people went, since his school-days. "Also there is a mystery," he mused. "I'll search it out." CHAPTER III MAN PROPOSES