Except to Sir Joseph, Mrs. Delarayne had revealed nothing about the nature of her journey to Ashbury to any member of the party at Brineweald. Lord Henry's visit was to be a surprise. She wished to safeguard Cleopatra from all suspicion that his arrival that evening might be connected with her indisposition, and contented herself with assuring her child that, having heard that he was overworked and very much run down, she had gone over to him in order to urge him to take a holiday. She merely hoped, she said, that he would be able to follow her advice and come to Brineweald. The afternoon was spent by the whole of the two households in paying a visit to Canterbury. Under Mrs. Delarayne's vigilant eye, Leonetta and Denis Malster had therefore been very discreet, and as the cars returned in the evening, Sir Joseph was firmly of the opinion that his idol had, with her customary art, slightly exaggerated the attentions which his private secretary was paying to her younger daughter. Dinner at Brineweald Park was over, the younger people, except Cleopatra, who had gone to bed, had dispersed themselves over the grounds as usual and Mrs. Delarayne, Miss Mallowcoid, and Sir Joseph were sitting on the terrace finishing their coffee, when Sir Joseph's head chauffeur was seen walking towards the steps with his junior, bearing Lord Henry's Gladstone bag and suit-case. "Where did you leave Lord Henry?" Mrs. Delarayne cried. "He told me to drive straight to the garage, ma'am," replied the man, "and bring the luggage here by hand." "Yes," Sir Joseph exclaimed, in the bullying tones he usually adopted with his servants; "but can't you answer a question? Where did you leave his lordship?" "He left the car at the Brineweald Gate," the man answered, "and said he would take a walk in the grounds, sir." "Oh, that's all right!" Mrs. Delarayne remarked, and the men moved on with their load. It was twilight. The lady scanned the stretch of park that lay before her, and discovering no sign of life, turned to Sir Joseph. "I hope he will find his way," she said. "Couldn't possibly help it, I should have thought," snapped Miss Mallowcoid. "Oh, but he's so tiresome sometimes," replied the widow. "He's so incorrigibly absent-minded." Brineweald Park was one of the largest in the whole of the West Kent districts. Its confines stretched to the straggling outskirts of four villages: Brineweald to the south-west, Hedlinge to the north, Headstone to the east, and Sandlewood to the south-east. Paths cutting diagonally through the Park, at a respectful distance from the house, joined all these outlying places one to another, and the inhabitants of all four villages were allowed a right of way, provided they conducted themselves with due propriety and did no damage. It was a favourite recreation ground for the children of the locality, but it was so vast that it was but seldom a stranger was ever encountered in the grounds.