Harcourt Lowther left no stone unturned in his endeavours to discover the Cornishman’s secret, but unluckily there were not many stones to turn: and when Mr. Lowther had pumped Francis, and pumped Francis’s valet, who could give no clue whatever to his master’s conduct, there remained nothing more to be done; unless, indeed, Mr. Lowther had cared to resort to the private-inquiry system, and employ a shabby-genteel person at three or four guineas a week to track the footsteps of Mr. Tredethlyn. But this was a plan to which Harcourt Lowther could only have resorted in the most desperate extremity. If possible, he wanted to do dirty work _without_ soiling his fingers. The private-inquiry system would have been a dangerous kind of machinery to put into motion--dangerous even if successful--utterly fatal in the case of failure; and it was just possible that the shabby-genteel person might do his spiriting awkwardly, and make his watchfulness sufficiently intrusive to arouse suspicion, and bring impetuous Francis Tredethlyn down upon him in an avalanche of manly rage. “Pshaw!” thought Mr. Lowther, after a meditative and leisurely review of his position. “It’s only a matter of so much time. ‘_Point de zèle_,’ said Talleyrand; but he only meant, don’t be in a hurry. Your zealous diplomatist may be a very valuable person, provided he knows now to keep the secret of his earnestness; but your impatient diplomatist is a certain failure. Yet there are people who _will_ gather their fruit before it is ripe. When your true diplomatist comes to an awkward knot in the airy network of his scheme, the best thing he can do is to sit down quietly before the web until some accidental hand unravels the entanglement. Chance is the unfailing friend of the schemer; but the goddess is very capricious in her visiting routine, and there are stupid creatures who won’t wait for a morning call. Luckily, I am not one of them. I can afford to be patient. Maude is an angel; the Stuccoville dinners are excellent, and the Stuccoville wines are my own selection; and for the rest I do pretty well. Ecarté is a most agreeable game; especially when one plays with a man who is half his time so absent-minded as to forget to mark the king. Yes, dear Francis, I can afford to wait for the lucky accident which is to put me in possession of the clue to those little trips of yours, in hansom cabs, which you prefer to pick up for yourself; thereby depriving your valet of any help to be derived by an examination of the number of the vehicle, and a subsequent chat with the driver.”