"Well--yes. Something about her." "But you speak as though we were intimate, my dear fellow, and as if I were about to lose my heart to her!" exclaimed Chisholm. "You'll probably know her soon, but when you are introduced, remember my warning, and drop her at once like a live coal." "You're in a delightfully prophetic vein this afternoon," laughed his host. "I suppose it's the dull weather." At this the elder man halted, turned upon him suddenly, placed his hand upon his shoulder, and said in a deep and earnest tone: "Recollect, Dudley, that what I told you this morning at breakfast was for your own good. I'm not a fellow given to preaching or moralising, that you know well. But I tell you straight to your face that before long you'll know Muriel Mortimer. All I urge upon you is not to allow yourself to be captivated." "Then you know something distinctly to her detriment?" Chisholm suggested, for what his friend had said had shown him plainly that this girl was mixed up in unsavoury matters. "I only say that she's not a desirable person for you to know." Dudley laughed uneasily. These words were all the more remarkable in the light of old Parsons' statement. "You speak just as though you feared I might marry her!" he said. "Well, there are many things more unlikely than that," was the elder man's reply. "We hear of strange matches nowadays." "And if I married this fair unknown, what then?" "Well, before you do that just take my advice and swallow an overdose of chloral, or something of that sort. It would be a far easier way out of this work-a-day world than marriage with her." Chisholm looked at him quickly. "My dear fellow," he said, "your words imply that marriage with her would be tantamount to suicide." "That was exactly the impression I meant to convey, Dudley," was the strange reply. "I can say no more--indeed, I have no intention of being more explicit, even were I free to make further explanation. Avoid her--that's all." CHAPTER SEVEN. UNITES REALITY WITH ROMANCE. The colonel's strange premonition was puzzling. Chisholm saw quite plainly that his friendship with Claudia Nevill had caused him to throw his usual carefulness to the winds. Her letter was but another proof of her insincerity; while the statement of the old colonel in respect of the house-party at Fernhurst angered him. He was furious that she should risk her reputation openly in such a manner. At the same time he was filled with regret that from the charming woman of four years ago she should have developed into a brilliant leader of society, acknowledged by all to be the smartest woman in London. It was dark when they drove into the quadrangle of the castle, and Dudley, excusing himself to his friends, dressed and retired to the great library for an hour before dinner in order to examine the official correspondence that had arrived in the morning.