“I am not going to stop in it at all, Sir Patrick--I am going to stay with the steward. I’m only wanted to be present to-morrow at a dinner to my tenants--and, when that’s over, there’s nothing in the world to prevent my coming back here. The steward himself told me so in his last letter.” “Oh, if the steward told you so, of course there is nothing more to be said!” “Don’t object to my coming back! pray don’t, Sir Patrick! I’ll promise to live in my new house when I have got Blanche to live in it with me. If you won’t mind, I’ll go and tell her at once that it all belongs to her as well as to me.” “Gently! gently! you talk as if you were married to her already!” “It’s as good as done, Sir! Where’s the difficulty in the way now?” As he asked the question the shadow of some third person, advancing from the side of the summer-house, was thrown forward on the open sunlit space at the top of the steps. In a moment more the shadow was followed by the substance--in the shape of a groom in his riding livery. The man was plainly a stranger to the place. He started, and touched his hat, when he saw the two gentlemen in the summer-house. “What do you want?” asked Sir Patrick “I beg your pardon, Sir; I was sent by my master--” “Who is your master?” “The Honorable Mr. Delamayn, Sir.” “Do you mean Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn?” asked Arnold. “No, Sir. Mr. Geoffrey’s brother--Mr. Julius. I have ridden over from the house, Sir, with a message from my master to Mr. Geoffrey.” “Can’t you find him?” “They told me I should find him hereabouts, Sir. But I’m a stranger, and don’t rightly know where to look.” He stopped, and took a card out of his pocket. “My master said it was very important I should deliver this immediately. Would you be pleased to tell me, gentlemen, if you happen to know where Mr. Geoffrey is?” Arnold turned to Sir Patrick. “I haven’t seen him. Have you?” “I have smelt him,” answered Sir Patrick, “ever since I have been in the summer-house. There is a detestable taint of tobacco in the air--suggestive (disagreeably suggestive to _my_ mind) of your friend, Mr. Delamayn.” Arnold laughed, and stepped outside the summer-house. “If you are right, Sir Patrick, we will find him at once.” He looked around, and shouted, “Geoffrey!” A voice from the rose-garden shouted back, “Hullo!” “You’re wanted. Come here!” Geoffrey appeared, sauntering doggedly, with his pipe in his mouth, and his hands in his pockets. “Who wants me?” “A groom--from your brother.” That answer appeared to electrify the lounging and lazy athlete. Geoffrey hurried, with eager steps, to the summer-house. He addressed the groom before the man had time to speak With horror and dismay in his face, he exclaimed: “By Jupiter! Ratcatcher has relapsed!” Sir Patrick and Arnold looked at each other in blank amazement.