"This is an unexpected surprise," she remarked as he came up. "Do you know Mr. Baxter--Captain Vane. . . ." Vane looked curiously at the man who had invoked his late companion's wrath. Then his glance fell on the bottle of Vichy in front of the millionaire, and his jaw tightened. "You left Blandford very unexpectedly, Miss Devereux," he said politely. "Yes--I had to go North suddenly." She looked at him with a smile. "You see--I was frightened. . . ." "Frightened. . . ." murmured Vane. "A friend of mine--a very great friend of mine--a girl, was in danger of making a fool of herself." Her eyes were fixed on the band, and his heart began to thump again. "I trust the catastrophe was averted," he remarked. "One never knows in these cases, does one?" she answered. He saw the trace of a smile hover on her lips; then she turned to her companion. "Captain Vane was one of the convalescents at Rumfold Hall," she explained. Mr. Baxter grunted. "Going over again soon?" he asked in a grating voice. "I'm on leave at present," said Vane briefly. "Well, if you'll forgive my saying so," continued Baxter in his harsh voice, "your luncheon companion to-day is a gentleman you want to be careful with. . . ." Vane raised his eyebrows. "You are more than kind," he murmured. "But I think. . . ." Mr. Baxter waved his hand. "I mean no offence," he said. "But that man Ramage is one of the men who are going to ruin this country. . . ." "Funnily enough, Mr. Baxter, he seems to be of the opinion that you are one of the men who have already done so." The millionaire, in no wise offended, roared with laughter. Then he became serious again. "The old catchwords," he grated. "Bloated capitalist--sweated labour, growing fat on the bodies and souls of those we employ. . . . Rot, sir; twaddle, sir. There's no business such as mine would last for one moment if I didn't look after my workpeople. Pure selfishness on my part, I admit. If I had my way I'd sack the lot and instal machines. But I can't. . . . And if I could, do you suppose I'd neglect my machine. . . . Save a shilling for lubricating oil and do a hundred pounds' worth of damage? Don't you believe it, Captain Vane. . . . But, I'll be damned if I'll be dictated to by the man I pay. . . . I pay them a fair wage and they know it. And if I have any of this rot of sympathetic strikes after the war, I'll shut everything down for good and let 'em starve. . . ." He looked at Joan. . . . "I wouldn't be sorry to have a long rest," he continued thoughtfully. "Captain Vane is a seeker after truth," she remarked. "It must be most valuable," she turned to Vane, "to hear two such opinions as his and Mr. Ramage's so close together." Her eyes were dancing merrily.