"I told them nothing," Starling replied. "On my soul and honor, I told them nothing!" "It was very wise of you," Sabatini said. "It might have led to disappointments--to trouble of many sorts. So you told them nothing, eh? That is excellent. After we have landed, I must hand you over to my valet. Then we will have a little talk." They were in the backwater now, drifting on toward the lawn. Starling shrank back at the sight of the two women. "I can't face it," he muttered. "I tell you I have lost my nerve." "You have nothing to fear," Sabatini said quietly. "There is no one here likely to do you or wish you any harm." Fenella came down to the steps to meet them. "So our prodigal has returned," she remarked, smiling at Starling. "We have rescued Mr. Starling from a solitary picnic upon his house-boat," Sabatini explained, suavely. "We cannot have our friends cultivating misanthropy." Mr. Weatherley, who had returned from the boat-builder's, half rose from his chair and sat down again, frowning. He watched the two men cross the lawn towards the house. Then he turned to Ruth and shook his head. "I have a great regard for Count Sabatini," he declared, "a great regard, but there are some of his friends--very many of them, in fact--whose presence here I could dispense with. That man is one of them. Do you know where he was a few nights ago, Miss Lalonde?" She shook her head. "In prison," Mr. Weatherley said, impressively; "arrested on a serious charge." Her eyes asked him a question. He stooped towards her and lowered his voice. "Murder," he whispered; "the murder of Mr. Rosario!" CHAPTER XXIII TROUBLE BREWING Through the winding lanes, between the tall hedges, honeysuckle wreathed and starred with wild roses, out onto the broad main road, Sabatini's great car sped noiselessly on its way back to London. They seemed to pass in a few moments from the cool, perfumed air of the country into the hot, dry atmosphere of the London suburbs. Almost before they realized that they were on their homeward way, the fiery glow of the city was staining the clouds above their heads. Arnold leaned a little forward, watching, as the car raced on to its goal. This ride through the darkness seemed to supply the last thrill of excitement to their wonderful day. He glanced towards Ruth, who lay back among the cushions, as though sleeping, by his side. "You are tired?" "Yes," she answered simply. They were in the region now of electric cars--wonderful vehicles ablaze with light, flashing towards them every few minutes, laden with Sunday evening pleasure seekers. Their automobile, however, perfectly controlled by Sabatini's Italian chauffeur, swung from one side of the road to the other and held on its way with scarcely abated speed. "You have enjoyed the day?" he asked. She opened her eyes and looked at him. He saw the shadows, and wondered. "Of course," she whispered.