When Mrs. May returned he was himself again. He could answer her questions gaily and smoothly. It was only when he was on his way home again that he recollected how much information he had imparted and how little he had got in return. "You must come and see me again," Mrs. May said. "Now, can't you come up some evening and dine with me? Say Thursday. Unless I hear from you to the contrary I shall see you on Thursday at seven. A primitive time, but then we are in the country." "You may be certain," Geoffrey said carelessly, "that I shall come if possible. Good-bye, Mrs. May. In ordinary circumstances my people would have called upon you. You will know why it is impossible." Mrs. May pressed Geoffrey's hand with gentle sympathy. "You have my real regrets," she said. "What a horrible thing it is to think that you are all powerless to help it. Good-bye." Geoffrey found Ralph at the entrance to the castle gate. There was a queer smile on his face, a smile of amused expectation. "You found her charming?" he asked. "And clever," said Geoffrey. "I guessed your plot, uncle. She is very clever." "The cleverest woman in the world, the most wicked, the most unscrupulous. Of course she asked you to dinner, and, of course, you will go. Nobody is to know of it, mind." "Uncle, how did you guess that?" "I'll tell you presently. And I'll tell you many things you will have to say and leave unsaid to--Mrs. May." "Tell me why Marion's photograph is in her album." "So she showed you that!" "No, I found it out by accident. Is Marion connected with her?" "Very closely, indeed. She is Marion's evil genius. And yet through that pure and innocent girl we are going to strike at the heart of the mystery. Ask me no questions, now; to-night we will go carefully into the matter." CHAPTER XIX VERA IS NOT PLEASED Any stranger looking along the terrace at Ravenspur would have been inclined to envy the lot of those who had their habitation there. It looked so grand, so dignified, so peaceful. Brilliant sunshine shone upon the terrace; against the grey stone of the grand old façade, the emerald green of the lawns rose refreshing to the eyes, those old lawns like velvet that only come with the passing of centuries. People from the rush and fret of cities, excursionists, who had their sordid, humdrum life in towns, turned longing eyes to Ravenspur. Anybody who lived in a place like that must be happy. And some of them looked it. Geoffrey, for instance, as he lounged on the terrace with a cigarette between his strong white teeth. He was seated with a cap over his eyes and appeared to be given over to a pleasant reverie. A rod and an empty fishing basket stood by his side. Ralph Ravenspur lounged up to him. Perhaps he had been waiting for his nephew. At any rate, he always knew where to find him. He sat with the sunshine full upon his sightless eyes and smoked his pipe placidly. "There is nobody about?" he asked.