‘Mr. Hossack, I fear you are a democrat! That dreadful Oxford is the cradle of advanced opinions. However,’ continued Lady Baker, ‘Mr. Vandeleur took up his quarters at our village inn, and spent the greater part of his time in this house. I take some credit to myself, being by nature sadly impulsive, for not having asked him to stay here altogether. For my own part, I had no doubt as to his respectability. Vandeleur was a good name. True, it might be assumed; but then the man himself had a superior air. I thought I could not be mistaken. Mardenholme filled with visitors soon after Mr. Vandeleur’s appearance among us. Every one seemed to like him. His genius astounded and charmed the women. The men liked his conversation, and admired, and even envied, him for his billiard playing, which I believe was _hors ligne_. “The time I have not given to music I have given to billiards,” he said when some one wondered at his skill. This must have been exaggeration, however, for he had read enormously, and could talk upon every possible subject.’ ‘Yes,’ said Geoffrey thoughtfully, ‘the description tallies in every detail—allowing for the difference between a man in the centre of civilisation, and the same man run wild and savaged by semi-starvation. I know this Vandeleur.’ ‘You know where he is, and what he is doing?’ asked Lady Baker eagerly. ‘No. At a random guess I should think it probable that his skeleton is peacefully mouldering under the pine-trees somewhere between the Athabasca and the Pacific—unless he was as lucky as my party in falling across better furnished travellers.’ Geoffrey had entertained her ladyship with a slight sketch of his American adventures during luncheon, so she understood this allusion.