“I wonder what he was going to say when he was stopped!” she remarked, after a brief pause. “When he was going to tell something about a man they had followed up. Uncle seemed in an agony of apprehension. I almost wish it had come out; I shall only be speculating what it was. I do hope he is not making an indefinite stay here.” But on this point Lydon thought he could see his way to give her some comfort. Stormont was much too clever a man to allow Newcombe to exhibit himself to his neighbours; he had been disturbed quite enough by the fact that he had been seen by the family and servants. “Your uncle is a resourceful man, Gloria, I am sure he will soon see a way of getting rid of him without hurting his feelings. And when the fellow gets sober again I daresay he will have the sense to perceive that Effington Hall is hardly a fit _milieu_ for him.” The next morning the Colonial did not come down to breakfast; probably it was too severe a task after the potations of the previous evening. He appeared in Stormont’s study about twelve o’clock, Lydon and the ladies having gone to church. What passed between the pair, they had no means of knowing. Newcombe lunched with them, and his demeanour was very chastened. He ate heartily, but drank very sparingly. Perhaps his host had given him a lecture on the fatal effects of intemperance. And during the meal he scarcely opened his lips. Gloria and her sweetheart went out for their afternoon walk. When they came back to tea, neither Stormont nor Newcombe was visible. Mrs. Barnard said that her brother had driven the visitor up to London, where he intended to find a lodging. Lydon drew a breath of relief: had the Colonial stayed, there might have been another disagreeable scene. Gloria openly expressed her satisfaction. “Loathsome creature, I hope he has gone for good,” she ejaculated fervently. “Have you ever seen him before, aunt?” “Never, my dear, nor do I want to see him again. It must have amazed your uncle very greatly. Of course in a wild place such as he went to as a young man, you cannot pick and choose the people you are forced to associate with. But it is distinctly unpleasant when they turn up in after life and remind you of the old acquaintance.” Had Stormont told her the same tale he had told to them, or did she know more about that sinister visitor than they did? Nothing in her demeanour enabled Lydon to determine the point. Stormont returned in time for dinner, having deposited his visitor somewhere. No further allusion was made to him by any member of the party, but his advent had created an uncomfortable feeling which was not wholly allayed by his departure.