Her brother stepped forward. “But I say, Dad,” he said, nervously, “I asked Perrison to stop the night. I’ve just asked Sybil, and she says she can fix him up somewhere.” “How do you do, Mr. Perrison?” With a charming smile she held out her hand. “Of course you must stop the night.” Then she moved away to the tea-table, feeling agreeably relieved; it was better than she had expected. The man was well-dressed; perhaps, to her critical eye, a little too well-dressed—but still quite presentable. “You averted a catastrophe, Miss Daventry.” A lazy voice beside her interrupted her thoughts, and with a smile she turned to the speaker. “Dad is most pestilentially rude at times, isn’t he? And Bill told me he left _you_ staring at the poor man as if he was an insect.” Archie Longworth laughed. “He’d just contradicted your father flatly as you came downstairs. And on a matter concerning horses. However—the breeze has passed. But, tell me,” he stared at her gravely, “why the sudden invasion?” Her eyebrows went up a little. “May I ask why not?” she said, coldly. “Surely my brother can invite a friend to the house if he wishes.” “I stand corrected,” answered Longworth, quietly. “Has he known him long?” “I haven’t an idea,” said the girl. “And after all, Mr. Longworth, I hadn’t known you very long when I asked you.” And then, because she realised that there was a possibility of construing rather more into her words than she had intended, she turned abruptly to speak to another guest. So she failed to see the sudden inscrutable look that came into Archie Longworth’s keen blue eyes—the quick clenching of his powerful fists. But when a few minutes later she again turned to him, he was just his usual lazy self. “Do you think your logic is very good?” he demanded. “You might have made a mistake as well.” “You mean that you think my brother has?” she said, quickly. “It is visible on the surface to the expert eye,” he returned, gravely. “But, in addition, I happen to have inside information.” “Do you know Mr. Perrison, then?” He nodded. “Yes, I have—er—met him before.” “But he doesn’t know you,” cried the girl. “No—at least—er—we’ll leave it at that. And I would be obliged, Miss Daventry, in case you happen to be speaking to him, if you would refrain from mentioning the fact that I know him.” He stared at her gravely. “You’re very mysterious, Mr. Longworth,” said the girl, with an attempt at lightness. “And if I may I will prolong my visit until our friend departs,” continued Longworth. “Why, of course,” she said, bending over the tea-tray. “You weren’t thinking of going—going yet, were you?” “I was thinking after lunch that I should have to go to-morrow,” he said, putting down his tea-cup. “But why so soon?” she asked, and her voice was low. “Aren’t you enjoying yourself?”