“You surely didn't expect I was going to get up? It was quite encouragement enough to remain passive. As a matter of fact,” she went on, “I couldn't have moved. I couldn't have uttered a sound. I suppose I must have been like one of those poor birds you read about, when some devouring animal crouches for its last spring.” “Compliments already!” he remarked. “You won't forget that my name is Francis, will you? Try and practise it while I carve the chicken.” “You carve very badly, Francis,” she told him demurely. “My dear,” he said, “thank heavens we shall be able to afford a butler! By-the-bye, I told your father this morning that I was going to marry you, and he didn't seem to think it possible because he had two million pounds.” “Braggart!” she murmured. “When did you see my father?” “He came to my rooms in the Temple soon after I arrived this morning. He seemed to think I might know where you were. I dare say he won't like me for a son-in-law,” Francis continued with a smile. “I can't help that. He shouldn't have let me go out with you in a punt.” There was a discreet knock at the door. Brooks made his apologetic and somewhat troubled entrance. “Sir Timothy Brast is here to see you, sir,” he announced. “I ventured to say that you were not at home--” “But I happened to know otherwise,” a still voice remarked from outside. “May I come in, Mr. Ledsam?” Sir Timothy stepped past the servant, who at a sign from Francis disappeared, closing the door behind him. CHAPTER XXII After his first glance at Sir Timothy, Francis' only thought was for Margaret. To his intense relief, she showed no signs whatever of terror, or of any relapse to her former state. She was entirely mistress of herself and the occasion. Sir Timothy's face was cold and terrible. “I must apologise for this second intrusion, Mr. Ledsam,” he said cuttingly. “I think you will admit that the circumstances warrant it. Am I to understand that you lied to me this morning?” “You are to understand nothing of the sort,” Francis answered. “I told you everything I knew at that time of your daughter's movements.” “Indeed!” Sir Timothy murmured. “This little banquet, then, was unpremeditated?” “Entirely,” Francis replied. “Here is the exact truth, so far as I am concerned. I met your daughter little more than an hour ago, coming out of a steamship office, where she had booked a passage to Buenos Ayres to get away from me. I was fortunate enough to induce her to change her mind. She has consented instead to remain in England as my wife. We were, as you see, celebrating the occasion.” Sir Timothy laid his hat upon the sideboard and slowly removed his gloves. “I trust,” he said, “that this pint bottle does not represent your cellar. I will drink a glass of wine with you, and with your permission make myself a pâté sandwich. I was just sitting down to luncheon when I received the information which brought me here.”