Mrs. Margery behaved like the Athertons! She looked astonished to see him and she put precisely the same question: "How did you get here?" Cosway could only conclude that she was joking. "Who should know that, dear lady, better than yourself?" he rejoined. "I don't understand you," Mrs. Margery answered, sharply. After a moment's reflection, Cosway hit on another solution of the mystery. Visitors were near them; and Mrs. Margery had made her own private use of one of Mr. Restall's invitation cards. She might have serious reasons for pushing caution to its last extreme. Cosway looked at her significantly. "The least I can do is not to be indiscreet," he whispered--and left her. He turned into a side walk; and there he met Adela at last! It seemed like a fatality. _She_ looked astonished; and _she_ said: "How did you get here?" No intrusive visitors were within hearing, this time. "My dear!" Cosway remonstrated, "Mrs. Margery must have told you, when she sent me my invitation." Adela turned pale. "Mrs. Margery?" she repeated. "Mrs. Margery has said nothing to me; Mrs. Margery detests you. We must have this cleared up. No; not now--I must attend to our guests. Expect a letter; and, for heaven's sake, Edwin, keep out of my father's way. One of our visitors whom he particularly wished to see has sent an excuse--and he is dreadfully angry about it." She left him before Cosway could explain that he and Mr. Restall had thus far never seen each other. He wandered away toward the extremity of the grounds, troubled by vague suspicions; hurt at Adela's cold reception of him. Entering a shrubbery, which seemed intended to screen the grounds, at this point, from a lane outside, he suddenly discovered a pretty little summer-house among the trees. A stout gentleman, of mature years, was seated alone in this retreat. He looked up with a frown. Cosway apologized for disturbing him, and entered into conversation as an act of politeness. "A brilliant assembly to-day, sir." The stout gentleman replied by an inarticulate sound--something between a grunt and a cough. "And a splendid house and grounds," Cosway continued. The stout gentleman repeated the inarticulate sound. Cosway began to feel amused. Was this curious old man deaf and dumb? "Excuse my entering into conversation," he persisted. "I feel like a stranger here. There are so many people whom I don't know." The stout gentleman suddenly burst into speech. Cosway had touched a sympathetic fiber at last. "There are a good many people here whom _I_ don't know," he said, gruffly. "You are one of them. What's your name?" "My name is Cosway, sir. What's yours?" The stout gentleman rose with fury in his looks. He burst out with an oath; and added the in tolerable question, already three times repeated by others: "How did you get here?" The tone was even more offensive than the oath. "Your age protects you, sir," said Cosway, with the loftiest composure. "I'm sorry I gave my name to so rude a person."