He had been told off this afternoon to lurk more or less concealed at the top of the steep pitch leading to the village, and there wait until something happened. It came at the end of a few minutes in the shape of a lady in perfect cycling costume, wheeling a machine up the hill towards Jessop's farm. As she came nearer to the spot where Geoffrey was smoking, a ragged nomad sprang from the hedge and demanded alms. The man was coarse and threatening, he was by no means sober, and his demands took the by no means modest form of a shilling. A second later there was a slight scream and Geoffrey darted forward. The sight of a woman in distress sufficed for him; Ralph was forgotten in an instant. There was a scuffle and a plunge, a rapid exit of the nomad and, hat in hand, Geoffrey was receiving the thanks of a beautiful woman, who was pleased to assure him that he was her preserver. "It is nothing," Geoffrey stammered, "nothing, really." It was not usual for him to be confused like this. But then he was standing face to face with the handsome stranger who had taken Mr. Jessop's rooms, the lady with the love of white flowers, the woman who employed Oriental servants, who were given to strange incantations, the creature in whom Ralph Ravenspur had taken so vivid an interest. And Geoffrey's confusion grew none the less as it flashed upon him that the intoxicated tramp had been the god in the car designed by Ralph to bring this introduction about. He steadied himself. There was work before him now. "You exaggerate my poor services," he said. "Not at all, I assure you," the lady said. Her eyes held a strange fascination; her voice was low and sweetly sedative. She was years older than Geoffrey, but just the kind of siren who drove young men mad, or lured them to destruction. "Few strangers would have faced so formidable an opponent for me." "Most of my countrymen would," Geoffrey said. "I hope you have a better opinion of Englishmen than that. But Englishmen are not favorites abroad." The dark eyes were dancing with amusement. "You are under the impression that I am not English?" she asked. "Well, there is a certain grace," Geoffrey stammered, "that spoke of----" "Foreign blood. Precisely. But all the same, I am proud to call myself an Englishwoman. My name is Mrs. May--Mona May. You are Mr. Geoffrey Ravenspur." "At your service. I had the pleasure of seeing you the other morning in Mrs. Jessop's kitchen. Meanwhile, to prevent any further trouble from our predatory friend, I am going to walk with you as far as the farm." Mrs. May raised no objection; on the contrary, she seemed pleased with the idea. She was dangerous, she was mixed up in some way with the conspiracy against the peace and happiness of the house of Ravenspur, and yet Geoffrey found it hard to resist her fascinations.