They were silent for a few moments. Then they began to talk more lightly. They discussed dogs and horses, their mutual friends, and their engagements for the next few days. They did not once refer to Thomson. Presently Geraldine paused to speak to some friends. Granet leaned upon his stick in the background and watched her. She was wearing a plain tailor made suit and a becoming little hat, from underneath which little wisps of golden hair had somehow detached themselves in a fascinating disorder. There was a delicate pink colour in her cheeks, the movements and lines of her body were all splendidly free and graceful. As she talked to her friends her eyes for the moment seemed to have lost their seriousness. Her youth had reasserted itself--her youth and splendid physical health. He watched her eagerly, and some shadow seemed to pass from his own face--the shadow of his suffering or his pain. He, too, seemed to grow younger. The simplest and yet the most wonderful joy in life was thrilling him. At last she bade farewell to her friends and came smiling towards him. “I am so sorry to have kept you all this time!” she exclaimed. “Lady Anne has just told me the time and I am horrified. I meant to walk here for an hour and we have been here for two. Stop that taxi for me, please. I cannot spare the time even to walk home.” He handed her into the cab and whistled for the dogs, who all scrambled in after her. “Thanks to much for looking after a helpless cripple,” he said pleasantly, as they shook hands. “You mustn’t grudge the time. Doing your duty to the country, you know.” He tactfully avoided any mention of a future meeting and was rewarded with a little wave of her hand from the window of the cab. He himself left the Park at the same time, strolled along Piccadilly as far as Sackville Street and let himself into his rooms. His servant came forward to meet him from the inner room, and took his cap and stick. “Any telephone messages, Jarvis?” “Nothing, sir.” Granet moved towards the easy-chair. On the way he stopped. The door of one of the cupboards in the sideboard was half open. He frowned. “Haven’t I told you, Jarvis, that I wish those cupboards kept locked?” he asked a little curtly. The man was staring towards the sideboard in some surprise. “I am very sorry, sir,” he said. “I certainly believed that I locked it last night.” Granet opened it wide and looked inside. His first glance was careless enough, then his expression changed. He stared incredulously at the small array of bottles and turned swiftly around. “Have you moved anything from here?” “Certainly not, sir,” was the prompt reply. Granet closed the cupboard slowly. Then he walked to the window for a moment, his hands behind his back. “Any one been here this morning at all, Jarvis?” he inquired. “A man for the laundry, sir, and a person to test the electric light.” “Left alone in the room at all?” “The electric light man was here for a few minutes, sir.”