Whitehouse was always taciturn; he ate heartily and drank a fair amount, but neither of these processes ever seemed to exhilarate him. Mrs. Barnard was naturally a quiet woman, of a disposition rather reserved than otherwise. The conversation at lunch was carried on mainly between the host and the dark, handsome girl. Miss Mayhew appeared to have travelled a great deal abroad, for she was constantly making references to places where apparently she and “Uncle Howard” had been in each other’s company. It was no doubt owing to these meetings that they seemed so intimate with each other. The visitors did not stay very long after lunch, although Stormont, in his hospitable way, pressed them to reconsider their decision, and postpone their departure till at least the following day. But Whitehouse shook his head and replied briefly it was impossible, as he and his niece had an engagement on Sunday. Stormont drove them alone from the house, as he had driven them alone to it. There must be some reason, for Lydon knew he was not fond of acting as chauffeur. Probably he wanted a few last words with the girl who was necessary to the prosecution of some business scheme hatched between the two men. After they had left, Mrs. Barnard retired to her usual task of writing letters, and the engaged couple went into the billiard-room. “Well, what do you think of the handsome Zillah?” asked Gloria as they chose their cues. “Uncle says she breaks hearts wherever she goes. Did you find her very fascinating?” Lydon had certainly been greatly fascinated by her, but not for the reasons Gloria had in her mind when she put the question. What had fascinated him was that brilliant sapphire pendant and the blemish on her neck, only partially concealed by the liberal use of powder. He answered her question lightly: “I expect most men would find her more than ordinarily attractive. But you know, darling, I have never had any great admiration for dark women.” Gloria no doubt was quite satisfied with the answer, for she did not pursue the subject. She had been rather eclipsed at lunch by the vivacious and brilliant Miss Mayhew, but now she was alone with her lover she chatted away merrily enough as they played their game. And, as she talked, Lydon found himself speculating on the recent visitor and the strange position of affairs at Effington. There was plenty of unreality about the whole thing. Was there also perhaps more than a mere suspicion of mystery? Why did Stormont maintain that persistent reticence about his business, a man usually of a most garrulous disposition? Even now Lydon did not know precisely where his offices were situated. On the bill of exchange it was necessary for him to put an address, but he had simply described himself as of Effington Hall, Surrey.