A change came over Lady Caroline Sellwood. She drew her chair a little nearer, and she favoured Claude Lafont with a kindlier glance than he had had from her since Easter. "Something may have happened," whispered Lady Caroline hopefully. "That's just it. Something _must_ have happened." "But something dreadful! Only last season there was a man killed in the Row! Was he--a _very_ rough diamond, Claude?" "Very." Lady Caroline sighed complacently. "But you can't help liking him," hastily added Claude, "and I hope to goodness nothing serious is the matter!" "Of course, so do I. That goes without saying." "Nor is he at all a likely man to be thrown. He has lived his life in the saddle. By the way, he brought his own old bush-saddle with him, and it appears that he insisted on riding out in that too." "You see, Claude, it's a pity you didn't leave him in the bush; he's evidently devoted to it still." "He is--that's the trouble; he has already spoken of bolting back there. My fear is that he may even now be suiting the action to the word." "Don't tell me that," said Lady Caroline, whose head was still full of her first theory. "It's what I fear; he's just the sort of fellow to go back by the first boat, if the panic took him. He showed signs of a panic last night. You see, he's only just beginning to realise what his position here will mean. And it frightens him; it may have frightened him out of our sight once and for all." Lady Caroline shook her head. "My fear is that he has broken his neck! And if he has, depend upon it, sad as it would be, it would still be for the best. That's what I always say: everything is for the best," repeated Lady Caroline, pensively gazing at Claude's handsome head. "However," she added, as the door opened, "here's Olivia; go and ask her what she thinks. _I_ am prepared for the worst. And pray stop, dear Claude, and let us talk the matter over after the others have gone. We may _know_ the worst by that time. And we have seen nothing of you this season!" Olivia looked charming. She was also kind to Claude. But she entirely declined to embrace her mother's dark view of the Duke's disappearance. On the other hand, she was inconveniently inquisitive about his looks and personality, and Claude had to say many words for his cousin before he could get in one for himself. However, he did at length contrive to speak of his new volume of poems. It was just out. He was having a copy of the exceedingly limited large-paper edition specially bound in vellum for Olivia's acceptance. Olivia seemed pleased, and apart from his anxiety Claude had not felt so happy for weeks. They were allowed to talk to each other until the rooms began to fill.