“Miss Daisy Hyslop,” he said, “shall we drink a glass of wine together on Thursday evening, and will you decide that although, perhaps, I am not a very satisfactory correspondent, I can at least be an amiable host?” The girl's eyes glistened. She knew very well that the possession of that card meant that for the next few days she would be the envy of every one of her acquaintances. “Thank you, Sir Timothy,” she replied eagerly. “You have quite misunderstood me but I should like to come to your party.” Sir Timothy handed over the cards. He rang for a servant and bowed the others out. Francis he detained for a moment. “Our little duel, my friend, marches,” he said. “After Thursday night we will speak again of this matter concerning Margaret. You will know then what you have to face.” Margaret herself opened the door and looked in. “What have those people been doing here?” she asked. “What is happening?” Her father unlocked his drawer once more and drew out another of the red cards. “Margaret,” he said, “Ledsam here has accepted my invitation for Thursday night. You have never, up till now, honoured me, nor have I ever asked you. I suggest that for the first part of the entertainment, you give me the pleasure of your company.” “For the first part?” “For the first part only,” he repeated, as he wrote her name upon the card. “What about Francis?” she asked. “Is he to stay all the time?” Sir Timothy smiled. He locked up his drawer and slipped the key into his pocket. “Ledsam and I,” he said, “have promised one another a more complete mutual understanding on Thursday night. I may not be able to part with him quite so soon.” CHAPTER XXVI Bored and listless, like a tired and drooping lily in the arms of her somewhat athletic partner, Lady Cynthia brought her dance to a somewhat abrupt conclusion. “There is some one in the lounge there to whom I wish to speak,” she said. “Perhaps you won't mind if we finish later. The floor seems sticky tonight, or my feet are heavy.” Her partner made the best of it, as Lady Cynthia's partners, nowadays, generally had to. She even dispensed with his escort, and walked across the lounge of Claridge's alone. Sir Timothy rose to his feet. He had been sitting in a corner, half sheltered by a pillar, and had fancied himself unseen. “What a relief!” she exclaimed. “Another turn and I should have fainted through sheer boredom.” “Yet you are quite wonderful dancing,” he said. “I have been watching you for some time.”