"Master. Dudley," said the old man, "you'll forgive me for speaking plain, won't you? It would, I know, be called presumption in other houses for a servant to speak like this to his master, but you are thirty-three now, and for those thirty-three years I've advised you, just as I would my own son." "I know, Parsons, I know. My father trusted you implicitly, just as I have done. Speak quite plainly. I'm never offended by your criticisms." "Well, sir, that woman may have a title, but she's not at all a desirable acquaintance for you, a rising man." Chisholm smiled. Claudia Nevill was a smart woman, moving in the best set in London; something of a lion-hunter, it was true, but a really good sort, nevertheless. "She dresses too well to suit your old-fashioned tastes, eh? In your days women wore curls and crinolines." "No, Master Dudley. It isn't her dress, sir. I don't like the woman." "Why?" "Because--well, you'll permit me to speak quite frankly, sir--because to my mind it's dangerous for a young man like you to be so much in the company of an attractive young person. And, besides, she's playing some deep game, depend upon it." Dudley's dark brows contracted for a moment at the old man's words. It was quite true that he was very often in Claudia Nevill's society, because he found her both charming and amusing. But the suggestion of her playing some game caused him to prick up his ears in quick interest. Parsons was a shrewd old fellow, that he knew. "And what kind of double game is Lady Richard playing?" he asked in a rather hard voice. "Well, sir, you'll remember that she called here just after luncheon the day before yesterday, and had an elderly lady with her. You had gone down to the Foreign Office; but I expected you back every moment, so they waited. When they were together in the drawing-room with the door closed I heard that woman explain to her companion that you were the most eligible man in London. They had spoken of your income, of Wroxeter, of his lordship's failing health, and all the rest of it, when that woman made a suggestion to her companion--namely, that you might be induced to marry some woman they called Muriel." "Muriel? And who in the name of fortune is Muriel?" "I don't know, sir. That, however, was the name that was mentioned." "Who was the lady who accompanied her ladyship? Had you ever seen her before?" "No, sir, never. She didn't give a card. She was elderly, dressed in deep mourning. They waited best part of an hour for you, then drove away in her ladyship's brougham." "I wonder who she could have been," remarked Dudley Chisholm reflectively. "I haven't the honour of knowing any lady named Muriel, and, what's more, I have no desire to make her acquaintance. But how was it, Parsons, that if the door was closed, you overheard this very edifying conversation?" "I listened at the keyhole, sir. Old men have long ears, you know." His master laughed.