That he had aroused any interest in her heart he did not for a moment suppose, but perhaps there might be a remote chance of winning her. If there were, how could he imperil his hope of success by running the risks attendant on the burglary? If she could give him the slightest hope he would resign his membership of the Burglars' forthwith. It was ridiculous to have to rush matters, but he had to know his fate at once. He could not even put it off till to-morrow, for he knew she was going to Knaresborough for the day with her father. He met her on the golf links. They played in a foursome in the morning. In the afternoon they had a round together. She was in capital form. Her splendid health and energy were a delight to the eye. Perhaps it was owing to this distraction that he foozled some of his drives, and twice got badly bunkered. His play went steadily from bad to worse, and she won by three up and two to play. "I don't think you were playing your best game," she said as they returned. "It strikes me that you were thinking about something else all the time." "You are quite right. I never played worse, and I was thinking about something else." "Something very serious, I reckon." "Very." "Is it anything I could help you in?" "You are very kind, Miss Pilgrim. All day, and most of last night, I have been deliberating on an important step." "What sort of a step?" "Whether I ought not to resign my membership of a certain club." "Is that all?" "You see, I was one of the founders, and I like it. But sometimes the conditions of membership seem impossible. At any rate, I have felt them so since last evening." "What are the conditions?" "I can't tell you them all, but one is that you have to be a bachelor--a confirmed bachelor." "Well, you are one, aren't you?" she asked gently. "I don't know. At any rate, I may not always be. In fact, I----" "Don't you be in a hurry to change," said Miss Pilgrim. "Don't imitate that king of yours. Judging from the document dad showed you, Henry the Eighth wanted to be a bachelor again, and then decided to remain a married man, all in one day. You Britishers are so variable." "It may seem very absurd, Miss Pilgrim, but I have to make up my mind without delay. And you can help me in the matter. May I--dare I----" "One minute, Lord Roker," she interrupted quickly. "You ought to be very careful before you think of changing your state. Teddy Robson waited twelve months before I promised to marry him." "Teddy Robson!" exclaimed Lord Roker. "Yes; this is his picture." She pulled a locket from her dress, and showed him the miniature of a nice, clean-looking lad. "He's the son of Josh. K. Robson, the Fustic King," she explained. "Fustic?" repeated Lord Roker, with intense gloom. "It's a wood that dyes yellow. Dad is the Logwood King, you know. Logwood dyes black. When I marry Teddy, the two firms will amalgamate, and we shall pretty well control the output of the West Indies."