Lord Henry was facing the homeward path, and she had her back turned to it. With great care he removed the offending particles of mud from the recovered treasure, and then fastened it on her arm. At the same moment, at a bow-shot from him, he saw Denis approaching at a rapid pace through the wood. Evidently he was coming in the hope of finding the bangle, and behind him followed Vanessa and the Incandescent Gerald. It seemed as if Fate itself had been active here, and had laid this unique opportunity in Lord Henry's hands. It was certainly too good to lose, and feeling perfectly certain that Denis could not know that his approach had been perceived, resolved immediately upon a drastic, but as he thought, conclusive measure. It was unfortunate that the Incandescent Gerald, whose sole object in coming was probably his besetting desire to "do good work," as Lord Henry put it, was also in sight. But there are certain risks that a good strategist must run. "Oh, you don't know how thankful I am!" Leonetta cried again. Lord Henry smiled. There was no time to lose. "I think that almost deserves a kiss," he said, placing an arm round her waist. She looked up; her expression spelt consent, and he held her for some seconds in his arms. "Well!" she cried, releasing herself; "it seems to me I go from bad to worse." He looked in the direction of home, and, as he feared, Vanessa, Denis, and the Incandescent Gerald had turned their backs, and were racing as hard as they could towards Brineweald Park. CHAPTER XVII "Are you sure it's quite clean?" asked Lord Henry, catching hold of her hand and examining the bangle closely, so as to retain her a few moments longer. "What does it matter?" Leonetta cried. "Really, I'm sure it's all right." He looked up. There was no sign of the three fugitives, and he allowed her to turn round. "Now we must step it out, I'm afraid," he said. Leonetta laughed gleefully. "What fun, isn't it?" she chirped. "I wonder how it fell off!" "Simply one of those strange accidents which go to determine the course of our lives," he observed calmly. "By accidentally throwing a tennis ball further than he intended, Sir Sidney Smith was ultimately able to decide the fate of Napoleon's campaign in Syria; the British Throne was once lost by just such an accident as this, and Kellermann's charge at Marengo was of the same order." She looked up into his thoughtful face. His self-possession was one of the most wonderful features about him. "What do you mean?" she exclaimed. "I hardly know whether you are serious or not."