He stood before her at last, for all the world like a half-famished wolf in the presence of a very wide-awake and dainty lamb that had not the least intention of being devoured. He spoke hurriedly—almost perfunctorily, as though he set no great store by his questions or the answers to them; and all the time that listening attitude was noticeable. "I called in the hope of finding his Grace at home," he began, with a half-note of interrogation. "Well, the butler will have told you that he is not at home," said Sybil sharply. "True; but servants are not always reliable, and I thought I had better see one of the family. Might I ask if the Duke is expected here to-night?" "No, he isn’t. What do you want him for?" snapped Sybil. The _aplomb_ of the question seemed to take the inquisitor back. He glanced curiously at the girl in the high-backed arm-chair, first scanning her tenacious little face, but quickly dropping his shifty eyes to the carelessly crossed shoes. He began to "hem" and "ha." "The fact of the matter is, we have had a communication from the county police at Prior’s Tarrant, in respect of an assault on one of the servants in the park yesterday. The local people think the attack may have been intended for the Duke, and they have wired us to make inquiries." The reason alleged for his visit sounded plausible, and in some degree might account for the hunted look she had surprised in the Duke’s eyes. Yet she was not altogether satisfied. It was conceivable that the police should want to question the Duke, but the excuse for intruding on her at such an hour hardly seemed adequate. "I am still at a loss to see how I can be of service to you in a matter of which I know nothing," she said, not attempting to keep the suspicion out of her voice. "I only desired to make sure, madam, that the Duke was not at home. Having obtained that assurance from the fountain-head, pray permit me to withdraw," was the nervously spoken reply, punctuated by an awkward bow and the commencement of a hurried retreat. But the visitor had only taken three steps down the long vista of the room when the door was flung open, and Prince announced, with the air of one who springs a surprise: "His Grace the Duke!" Beaumanoir was very pale, but he advanced without hesitation, meeting Sibyl’s interrogator half-way up the room. Startled as she was by her cousin’s unexpected appearance, the girl intuitively rose and went forward, vaguely conscious of a desire to hear if the man repeated the same tale. "Well, sir?" said the Duke, curtly. Sybil hardly knew whether or no she was relieved when, word for word, the man repeated the reason he had just given her for his call. Watching her cousin’s face, she saw the pallor yield to a flush of evident annoyance.