Walter also rose and went and stood by one of the windows. He wore a preoccupied air, as of one debating some question with himself. Drelincourt's lips moved inaudibly. "As I told Winslow, I had my reasons for affording Marian and this young fellow an opportunity of falling in love with each other. I do not think--no, I do not think that I am mistaken in him!" Next moment a shadow darkened his face. Again he glanced at his watch. "The trial ought to be over by now. I thought I heard the sound of galloping hoofs." For a few seconds he stood in a listening attitude. "The sound was in my own brain only. So does expectation play the cheat with itself!" Presently Deane turned from the window and went up to Drelincourt, who was standing at the center table, examining an etching through a magnifying glass. His face was pale, but his lips were firmly set, and his eyes shone with resolution. "Mr. Drelincourt," he began, in a voice which had lost something of its customary assurance, "after what has just passed between us, I think it due to you to inform you that _I_ am the son of a man who committed suicide! Probably you will think that such a circumstance ought to have been brought to your knowledge long ago; and, indeed, I feel now that it was both cowardly and wrong on my part to keep it from you. The only excuse I can offer is that my father's memory is so dear to me that--that----" The words broke on his lips; a mist dimmed his eyes; he turned away while he recovered himself. Drelincourt laid a hand gently on his shoulder. "Not a word more is needed," he said in grave, kindly accents. "My boy, all the sad circumstances connected with your father's end are known to me already." "Mr. Drelincourt!" "As also how every penny of your legacy was devoted to the payment of the debts he left behind him." "You know all this, and yet----" "Hush! Some one comes. Not another word." CHAPTER X. IN THE LAST RESORT. It was Marian, who came quickly forward, her cheeks aglow with pleasurable excitement. "Papa, what do think? There are a couple of Neapolitan _pifferari_ on the lawn, and I have told them to come round here. You should have seen how delighted they were when I spoke to them in Italian. I knew you would be pleased to hear them play a few of their simple airs. It will seem like old times come back again, will it not?" "Old times, forsooth!" exclaimed Drelincourt with his most riant air. "You talk, _mignonne_, as if this were your fiftieth birthday instead of your eighteenth. But where are these vagabonds of yours? I suppose I must submit to having my ears tortured, since you will it so." Then, as the girl turned away, the shadow swept over his face again, and under his breath he murmured: "Rodd--Rodd--whip and spur!--whip and spur!" Marian had flitted on to the lawn, and was beckoning to the _pifferari_, who presently came slouching along, and took up a position a little way removed from one of the long windows.