Lord Littimer sat on the terrace, shaded from the sun by an awning over his deck-chair. From his expression he seemed to be at peace with all the world. His brown, eager face had lost its usually keen, suspicious look; he smoked a cigarette lazily. Chris sat opposite him looking as little like a hard-working secretary as possible. As a matter of fact, there was nothing for her to do. Littimer had already tired of his lady secretary idea, and had Chris not interested and amused him he would have found some means to get rid of her before now. But she did interest and amuse and puzzle him. There was something charmingly reminiscent about the girl. She was like somebody he had once known and cared for, but for the life of him he could not think who. And when curiosity sometimes got the better of good breeding Chris would baffle him in the most engaging manner. "Really, you are an exceedingly clever girl," he said. "In fact, we are both exceedingly clever," Chris replied, coolly. "And yet nobody is ever quite so clever as he imagines himself to be. Do you ever make bad mistakes, Lord Littimer?" "Sometimes," Littimer said, with a touch of cynical humour. "For instance, I married some years ago. That was bad. Then I had a son, which was worse." "At one time you were fond of your family?" "Well, upon my word, you are the only creature I ever met who has had the audacity to ask me that question. Yes, I was very fond of my wife and my son, and, God help me, I am fond of them still. I don't know why I talk to you like this." "I do," Chris said, gently. "It is because unconsciously you yearn for sympathy. And you fancy you are in no way to blame; you imagine that you acted in the only way consistent with your position and dignity. You fancied that your son was a vulgar thief. And I am under the impression that Lady Littimer had money." "She had a large fortune," Littimer said, faintly. "Miss Lee, do you know that I have a great mind to box your ears?" Chris laughed unsteadily. She was horribly frightened, though she did not show it. She had been waiting for days to catch Littimer in this mood. And she did not feel disposed to go back now. The task must be accomplished some time. "Lady Littimer was very rich," she went on, "and she was devoted to Frank, your son. Now, if he had wanted a large sum of money very badly, and had gone to his mother, she would have given it to him without the slightest hesitation?" "What fond mother wouldn't?" "I am obliged to you for conceding the point. Your son wanted money. and he robbed you when he could have had anything for the asking from his mother." "Sounds logical," Littimer said, flippantly. "Who had the money?" "The same man who stole Prince Rupert's ring--Reginald Henson." Littimer dropped his cigarette and sat upright in his chair. He was keen and alert enough now. There were traces of agitation on his face. "That is a serious accusation," he said.