Just then--when they were irrevocably committed to this feast--the flap of the tent was drawn back, and Lady Norah’s face appeared. Behind her stood Violet and Miss Gilletson. Lynborough ran forward to meet them. “Here we are, Lord Lynborough,” said Norah. “The Marchesa was so kind, she told us to do just as we liked, and we thought it would be such fun to lunch with the cricketers.” “The cricketers are immensely honoured. Let me introduce you to our captain, Mr Peters. You must sit by him, you know. And, Miss Dufaure, will you sit by Mr Jeffreys?--he’s their captain--Miss Dufaure--Mr Jeffreys. You, Miss Gilletson, must sit between Mr Dawson and me. Now we’re right--What, Colonel Wenman?--What’s the matter?” Wenman had risen from his place. “The--the Marchesa!” he said. “We--we can’t leave her to lunch alone!” Lady Norah broke in again. “Oh, Helena expressly said that she didn’t expect the gentlemen. She knows what the custom is, you see.” The Marchesa had, no doubt, made all these speeches. It may, however, be doubted whether Norah reproduced exactly the manner, and the spirit, in which she made them. But the iced hock-cup settled the Colonel. With a relieved sigh he resumed his place. The business of the moment went on briskly for a quarter of an hour. Mr Dawson rose, glass in hand. “Ladies and gentlemen,” said he, “I’m no hand at a speech, but I give you the health of our kind neighbour and good host to-day--Lord Lynborough. Here’s to his lordship!” “I--I didn’t know he was giving the lunch!” whispered Colonel Wenman. “Is it his lunch?” said Irons, nudging Stillford. Stillford laughed. “It looks like it. And we can hardly throw him over the hedge after this!” “Well, he seems to be a jolly good chap,” said Captain Irons. Lynborough bowed his acknowledgments, and flirted with Miss Gilletson; his face wore a contented smile. Here they all were--and the Marchesa lunched alone on the other side of the field! Here indeed was a new wedge! Here was the isolation at which his diabolical schemes had aimed. He had captured Nab Grange! Bag and baggage they had come over--and left their chieftainess deserted. Then suddenly--in the midst of his triumph--in the midst too of a certain not ungenerous commiseration which he felt that he could extend to a defeated enemy and to beauty in distress--he became vaguely aware of a gap in his company. Stabb was not there! Yet Stabb had come upon the ground. He searched the company again. No, Stabb was not there. Moreover--a fact the second search revealed--Roger Wilbraham was not there. Roger was certainly not there; yet, whatever Stabb might do, Roger would never miss lunch! Lynborough’s eyes grew thoughtful; he pursed up his lips. Miss Gilletson noticed that he became silent. He could bear the suspense no longer. On a pretext of looking for more bottled beer, he rose and walked to the door of the tent.