"Quite so. And you've come to the right shop," said Reggie. "A novelist knows everything, or what's the use of him! I'll tell you all about it. And so you're going to marry your true love out of hand?" he said, when he had imparted the required information. "I don't blame you. If my angel would consent to marry me, I'd marry her the first available day, hour, instant. But why this haste on your part? I should have thought Miss Grant would have stipulated for the usual fuss and flare-up, bridesmaids, wedding cake, speeches, reception, et cetera." "She ought to have them all," said Derrick, with a sigh. "But there are reasons why we should be married at once." "One angel the less in England," said Reggie, with a sigh. "Well, you leave it all to me. I'll fix it for you, as the Americans say. By the way, do you know my friend, Lady Gridborough?" "I did, but I don't," said Derrick, shortly. "At least, she doesn't know me now--as you saw. No, I can't tell you. Confound it all, I'm like a man in a beastly novel, a man 'with a secret,' a mystery." "'Beastly novel!' I forgive you the blasphemy," said Reggie, "because I treasure you. A real live man with a secret is more precious than rubies in the eyes of a novelist. There, go in and get something to eat, if you can eat; I couldn't, if I were going to marry Celia Grant." "And I can't--eat, I mean," said Derrick, and with something between a laugh and a sigh he rose and went into the inn. CHAPTER XXV Heyton slept badly that night and came down to breakfast after Lord Sutcombe and Miriam had finished theirs and gone out. He was in a bad temper, cursed the footman who waited on him, and when he had drunk a cup of coffee and made pretence of eating a piece of toast, mixed himself a glass of soda and whisky and went out. He wandered about the park, and did not come in to lunch, but when he appeared at dinner, he was more than usually cheerful and talked to Miriam and his father in the aimless and futile way with which a man talks when he is engaged in the unaccustomed task of making himself agreeable. Both Miriam and his father noticed that he was more sparing of the wine than usual, and Lord Sutcombe, who thought that Miriam had given Percy a hint, glanced at her gratefully. "Where have you been all day, Percy?" asked Miriam, masking her indifference with a show of curiosity. "Oh, I've been mouching about," he said. "Looking round the estate generally." He fingered his glass and glanced across at the Marquess. "They seem to look after the preserves pretty well," he said; "but I noticed that there was a gipsy encampment down by the pool. Unpleasant sort of characters to have about you. I should clear them away, father."