"Well," he said, stretching himself, "it is really very pleasant, Miss Wynd, to be here once again. I have so many pleasant recollections of last year--when I spent three weeks with you. What a merry time we had!" "I hope you'll remain here longer this time," she said in a dry, unnatural voice. "You're awfully kind--awfully kind," he answered. "I always enjoy myself under Sir Henry's roof, both here and in town." The baronet entered, and the greeting between the two men was a cordial one. "You'll forgive me, Ashwicke, won't you?" Sir Henry said a moment later. "I quite forgot to tell my wife, and she's gone off to the flower-show at Dodington; must support the local things, you know." "Of course, of course," responded the other. "I quite understand, and I know I'm welcome." "That you certainly are," Sir Henry said, turning and ordering the man to bring whisky and sodas. "Let's see, the last letter I had from you was from Alexandria, back in the Spring. Where have you been since then?" "Oh, knocking about here and there, as usual. I can't stay long in one place, you know. It's a bad complaint I have." "Well, I'm glad to see you--very glad," the baronet declared heartily. "I hope you'll stay some time. Have you brought your gun?" "Of course," the other laughed. "I shouldn't think, of coming to Atworth without it." While they were chatting thus, I looked at him, recalling every feature. Yes, it was the same face, scarcely perhaps the same sinister countenance as it had appeared to me on that well-remembered day, but nevertheless the face of the Tempter. I lounged back in my chair, close to that of my well-beloved, filled with wonderment. That the newcomer recognised me was certain, for I had been introduced by name. And that he had been unaware of my presence as guest there was equally certain. Yet he had, on encountering us together, preserved a self-control little short of marvellous. I glanced at Beryl. She was sitting listening to the conversation of the two men, and regarding Ashwicke covertly from beneath her lashes. I knew by her manner that, although she had outwardly affected pleasure at his arrival, she, in her heart, regarded him as an enemy. He, on his part, however, was perfectly confident, and sat sipping his drink and laughing merrily with his host. What, I wondered, was passing within Beryl's mind. She knew this man as Ashwicke, while I knew him as her own father, Wyndham Wynd. The latter were evidently a name and position both assumed, and, after all, as he sat there with the easy refined air of a gentleman, I could scarcely believe him to be an adventurer. Surely Sir Henry knew him well, or they would not be on terms of such intimate friendship. But now I had discovered him, I meant, at all hazards, to probe the truth.