"Oh Master Rupert what is it?" gasped the old woman. "Nothing I can tell you at present," said Ainsleigh carelessly, "I have a good mind to seek Abbot Raoul myself and see if he can't help me; but I'm not psychic as you are Mrs. Petley. I see nothing." "And a good thing too," said the ex-cook solemnly, "if it spoke to you it would be to make matters worse, though worse they can't be." "Oh yes they can," said Rupert grimly. "I may have to leave--" "Never," cried Mrs. Petley smiting her fat hands together. "Royabay can never do without an Ainsleigh within its walls." "It will have to content itself with Abbot Raoul, and I hope he'll jolly well frighten the creditors." "Drat them," said Mrs. Petley vigorously, "but Master Rupert why did it pint to the copper beech." "I can't say. Ask it when next you see it. But I must go to Major Tidman. He'll be angry if I keep him." Mrs. Petley tossed her head and snorted. "The idear of old Farmer Tidman's son, being angry with the likes of you Master Rupert. I mind him when he was a brat of a lad and--" "Yes--yes--but I must go," said Ainsleigh rather impatiently and left Mrs. Petley talking to the air. Major Tidman, whose ears must have burnt at the thoughts which occupied Mrs. Petley's brain, was seated in the most comfortable arm-chair he could find, and smoked a good cigar. He had a bottle of port and a glass before him, and apparently had made himself at home while waiting. "Hope you don't mind my making free with the wine-list," said Tidman, who looked rather uneasy, as he rose. "I've waited two hours." "What about?" said Rupert, throwing his cap down and sinking wearily into a near chair, "anything wrong?" "I am," said the Major, "all wrong my dear boy. You see in me a beast and a false friend." "Indeed. How do you make that out?" "I have been concealing things from you," said the Major ruefully, "and all to make money. I'm really getting avaricious, Ainsleigh," added the Major desperately, "and it's spoiling my character." "Well," said Rupert filling his pipe, and wondering what this out-burst meant, "Byron says that avarice is a fine old gentlemanly vice. If you have only that fault to blame yourself for, you are very lucky." "But I should have told you about the fan." Rupert blew out the match he had just lighted and sat up. "What's that about the fan?" he asked sharply. "I know something about it," said Tidman fortifying his courage with a glass of wine, "and I should have spoken the other evening after dinner when you read that advertisement. But I thought I'd get the fan myself and secure the five thousand pounds--though to be sure I didn't know what that Tung-yu would pay for it at the time." "No," said Rupert drily, "I told you that later. Well, Major, you haven't treated me quite on the square, but I forgive you. I expect neither of us will make money out of that fan." "No," said Tidman still more ruefully. "Forge has lost it."