At the restaurant Mrs. Talmage Eglinton chose a table in a remote corner of the dining-room and devoted herself to a careful study of the _menu_. It was not till she had selected her dishes and quizzed the appearance of the other customers that she developed her plan of attack. "You don’t seem at all interested in the fact that I have something to say to you," she began, leaning back and scanning him critically. Her voluptuous style of beauty had never had any attraction for him; to-day it positively repelled. "My worst enemies have never accused me of being curious," he answered lightly. "Nay, I am not discourteous," he protested, seeing the angry gleam in the fine eyes. "I only mean that I cannot work myself into a fever about a communication the subject of which I am ignorant of." "Tell me," she said abruptly, "what reason you had for following me from St. Pancras to Bond Street this morning?" Whatever her motive she was pushing him hard, and Forsyth’s presence of mind failed him. He flushed and began to stammer. [Illustration: _"I am very far from being indifferent to Mrs. Talmage Eglinton."_] "It is useless to deny it," she cut him short. "I saw you in the cab quite plainly as I entered the shop, and my cabby had previously told me that I was being shadowed. Now, Mr. Forsyth, when a gentleman follows a lady about the streets he either does it because he means her some harm, or because—well, because he is not quite indifferent to her. Which was it in your case?" This was a poser, and it had to be faced with instant decision. Rapidly reflecting that unless he was then and there prepared to accuse his fair _vis-à-vis_ with complicity with Ziegler there was only one course open to him, he took it promptly. He little thought that within the next forty-eight hours his fate—to live or to die—would depend on the demeanor he then adopted. "I certainly did not follow you with a bad motive, and—there, a straight question deserves a straight answer—I am very far from being indifferent to you, Mrs. Talmage Eglinton," he said. After that the amenities flowed in the most friendly channel, though Forsyth suffered agonies, and it required all his skill as an amateur actor of repute to sustain the part of a diffident lover hovering on the brink of a declaration. In the afternoon they returned to Prior’s Tarrant together, outwardly on the best of terms; but, needless to say, Forsyth was still "hovering." CHAPTER XVII—_Where is the Duke?_ The next day was that set for the arrival of Senator Sherman, though it would be quite late in the afternoon before he could reach Prior’s Tarrant from Liverpool. Mrs. Sherman had addressed a letter to him on board the _Campania_, explaining matters and passing on a cordial invitation from Beaumanoir that he would join the party on landing.