"Yes, Brabazon," replied Brett carelessly. "It seems he and old Sir Philip and Aunt Susan and Miss Lovell were all stopping at Montricheux. I'd no idea my aunt was staying there, or I'd have run down and looked her up. But we hardly ever correspond. My address is always such a doubtful quantity"--with a laugh. "You see, I'm liable to dash off to the ends of the earth at a moment's notice, if the spirit moves me." He rose, tucking the puppy under his arm. "Well, I must be getting back. Aunt Susan will be on tenterhooks till she sees this youngster." Coventry accompanied him to the door and signalled to the groom who was walking Brett's horse slowly up and down. "I shouldn't repeat that story to any one, if I were you, Forrester," he said, speaking with some effort, as they shook hands. "Good Lord! Not I! What do you take me for?" laughed Brett easily. "I only thought it might amuse you, Lovell being your agent." The groom brought the horse and trap to a standstill in front of the house door, and touched his hat. "I've kept the horse moving about, sir, as he was a bit hot," he said, addressing Brett. The latter nodded and tipped the man generously. Meanness, at least, was not included amongst his many faults. "Quite right," he replied. "Got a basket handy for the pup?" The man lifted down from the front of the dog-cart a basket he had put there in readiness, and the puppy, wailing pathetically, was deposited inside. "Never mind, old man," observed Brett, bestowing a final reassuring pat on the small black and tan head. "It'll soon be over." A minute later he was driving swiftly down the avenue, an odd expression of mingled triumph and amusement in his eyes. CHAPTER XXIII THE TEETH OF THE WOLF The gate clicked and Ann peeped rosily out of her bedroom window. She had been expecting that click all morning--waiting for it with every sense alert and with absurd, delicious little thrills of happiness chasing each other through her veins. Several disappointing clicks had preceded it--one which merely revealed a new baker's boy who hadn't troubled to discover whether the Cottage boasted a back-door or not, and another heralding the entry of Billy Brewster, armed with a stout broom and prepared to sweep the flagged path clean of the minutest particle of dust. So that Ann had at last been reluctantly compelled to fall back on the same explanation which had served her once before--that Eliot must have been detained at Heronsmere by unexpected business. But now the afternoon had brought the desired click of the gate, and she could see his tall, well-knit figure striding up the path below. She leaned out of the window and called to him: "Coo-ee! I'm up here!"