"I don't mind that," said Shawe, throwing back his well-shaped head. "I am not afraid of Sir Joseph. By the way, talking about the possibility of that clock being wrong, was your father with you in the car?" "No. He went out at six o'clock for one of his prowls." "What do you mean by one of his prowls?" asked Shawe, surprised. "Well, papa, for all our talking, is really kind when he chooses. He is sorry for poor people--for the really ragged, unwashed poor, that is--and sometimes he goes out quietly and wanders round the streets, giving money to beggars and helping those who need help." "You throw quite a light on your father's character," said Ralph, grimly. "I should have thought that Sir Joseph was the last person in the world to help anyone or to act the secret philanthropist." "Mrs. Mellop told me that he did so. She saw him once or twice in a tweed suit in the evening helping people--giving money, that is. And papa must go out for some such purpose, for he usually puts on evening dress for dinner." "And changes it afterwards?" "No; on the nights he goes out he doesn't change his clothes, and very often doesn't come to dinner. On that night Mrs. Mellop and I had the meal to ourselves, and went alone to the theatre. Papa had gone out at six in his usual clothes for a prowl. Perhaps," ended Audrey, wistfully, "I have misjudged my father, and he may not be so hard as I think. I never knew that he helped the poor until Mrs. Mellop told me; and she only saw him by chance when her taxi-cab broke down one evening on the Embankment." "Well, I am glad to hear that Sir Joseph has some redeeming qualities," said Shawe, somewhat cynically; for the whole story sounded improbable, seeing what he knew of the man. Neither of the young people noticed at the time that they were near the gates of Branwin's mansion, and were therefore astonished when Sir Joseph himself stepped out. He was dressed in a rough tweed suit, and looked more bulky and aggressive than ever. With a scowl he fairly snatched his daughter from the barrister's arm. "I expected something of this sort, Audrey, when you went out so early," he said, in his domineering tones. "I was just coming to Kensington Gardens. Mrs. Mellop kindly told me how you met this rascal in--" "I am no rascal, sir," said Shawe, spiritedly. "Yes, you are. You know that I don't wish my daughter to marry you, and yet you arrange secret meetings in the Gardens." "I am to blame, if anyone," said Audrey, hotly, "for I arranged the meeting." "A pretty confession for a young lady," said her father, grimly; "but I shall take care that you arrange no more. As for you, sir"--he turned on Ralph--"I forbid you to think of Miss Branwin. She is to marry Lord Anvers." "I shall not," cried Audrey, growing white, but perfectly determined. "You shall. I have spoken to Lord Anvers, and he is willing to make you his wife. You understand, Mr. Shawe?"