During the process it flashed upon Piers that all mention of Tudor had been avoided in the letter he had just read. He frowned momentarily at the thought. Had she deliberately avoided the subject? And if so--but on the instant his brow cleared again. No, she had written too frankly for that. She had not mentioned the matter simply because she regarded it as unimportant. The great question lay between herself and him alone. Of that he was wholly certain. He smiled again at the thought. No, he was not afraid of Tudor. "_Monsieur_ is well pleased," murmured Victor, with a flash of his round black eyes. "Quite well pleased, _mon vieux!_" laughed back Piers "_C'est bien_!" said Victor, regarding him with the indulgent smile that he had bestowed upon him in babyhood. "And _Monsieur_ does not want his other letter? But no--no!" His voice was openly quizzical; he dodged a laughing backhander from Piers with a neat gesture of apology. It had not escaped his notice that the letter Piers had read had disappeared unobtrusively into an inner pocket. "Who's the other letter from?" said Piers, glancing at it perfunctorily. "Oh, I know. No one of importance. She'll keep till after dinner." Ina Rose would not have felt flattered had she heard the statement. The fan Piers had promised to send her had duly arrived from Paris with a brief--very brief--note from him, requesting her acceptance of it. She had written in reply a letter which she had been at some pains to compose, graciously accepting the gift and suggesting that an account of any adventures that befell him would be received by her with interest. She added that, a spell of frost having put an end to the hunting, life at Wardenhurst had become extremely flat, and she had begun to envy Piers in his exile. Her father was talking of going to Mentone for a few weeks, and wanted her to accompany him. But she was not sure that she would care for it. What did Piers think? When Piers did eventually read the letter, he smiled at this point,--a smile that was not altogether good to see. He was just going out to the Casino with Crowther. The latter had gone to fetch a coat, and he had occupied the few moments of waiting with Ina's letter. He was still smiling over the open page when Crowther joined him; but he folded the letter at once, and they went out together. "Have you had any luck at the tables?" Crowther asked. "None," said Piers. "At least I won, eventually, but Fate, in the form of a powdered and bedizened female snatched the proceeds before I got the chance. A bad omen, what?" "I hope not," said Crowther. There was a touch of savagery in Piers' laugh. "It won't happen again, anyhow," he said. They entered the Casino with its brilliant rooms and pushing crowds. The place was thronged. As they entered, a woman with a face of evil beauty, pressed close to Piers and spoke a word or two in French. But he looked at her and through her with royal disdain, and so passed her by.