"Thorold's horses to be sold!" I exclaimed. "I had no idea. Then he has said good-bye to Rutland for good and all. I am sorry." "So am I, very. He is a man I have always liked. Naturally his name is in rather bad odour in the county just at present, but that does not in the least affect my own regard for him." "It wouldn't," I said to him. "You are not that sort, Rowan. It is a pity there are not more like you about." He changed the subject by asking if I had seen Sir Charles and Lady Thorold lately. "I have not seen Lady Thorold since the Houghton affair," I answered. "I have seen Sir Charles, but not to speak to." I recollected how I had caught a glimpse of him in that house in Belgrave Street. "You have heard the latest about Miss Thorold, of course?" he said, as we passed into the Yard, which at this hour--about four o'clock--was crowded with well-dressed men and women. "The latest? What do you mean?" "Dear me," he exclaimed, smiling. "Why, we country cousins know more than you men about town after all, sometimes. She's at Monte Carlo." "At Monte? Vera Thorold!" "Yes." "What is she doing there? Who is with her?" "I don't know who's with her, or if any one is with her. She is pretty independent, as you know, and well able to take care of herself--a typical twentieth century girl." "But who told you she was at Monte?" "Several people. Ah! there's Lord Logan! He'll tell us. He was speaking of her yesterday. He returned from the Riviera only a couple of days ago." CHAPTER TWELVE. GOSSIP FROM THE SUNSHINE. "Oh, yes, that's right enough," Lord Logan said, when we questioned him. "I saw her the night before I left. She was playing trente-et-quarante--and winning a bit, too, by Gad!" He was an ordinary type of the modern young peer--well-set-up, unemotional, faultlessly groomed. He produced a gold cigarette case as he spoke, and held it out to me. I noticed that the cigarettes it contained bore his coat of arms. "These cigarettes are not likely to be stolen from you," I said lightly, indicating the coat of arms. He smiled. "You are right. I was the first to start the fashion--get 'em from Cairo every week--and now everybody's doin' it, haw, haw! I've got my cartridges done the same way. At some places where one shoots the beater fellers rob one right and left--the devils. I said to one of my hosts the other day, I said: `Your cartridge carriers are a lot of bally rogues.' `What do you mean?' he asked, bristlin' up like a well-bred bull-dog. `Well,' I said, `you make 'em all turn out their pockets, and you'll see,' I said. And he did!" "And what was in them?"