At the hotel in Bournemouth we had carefully concealed our destination, telling the hall-porter we were going to London, lest any inquiry be made after our departure. We had tea at the Randolph at Oxford, and it was nearly half-past seven before we drew up before the grey stone front of Lydford Hall, where the butler threw open the door. The sound of the car brought Shaw out in surprise, and as soon as we had washed we all three sat down to dinner in the fine old dining-room. About Shaw there was no trace of the least anxiety, yet when the man had gone and I told him in a whisper of what I had seen when watching in the park at Ridgewell, he started, and his face underwent a change. "I was a fool to have gone there," he said. "But it was unfortunately of necessity. Surridge was in Bath, but did not know that I went out to Ridgehill." "Tramu may have had you watched, Dad." "No fear of that, child," he laughed. "Surridge arranged for a hired car for me to-day from Bath to Westbury, where I took train to Newbury, and the `sixteen' met me there and brought me here. So for Tramu to follow is out of the question. I have not seen Surridge, but merely carried out his arrangements. He may, of course, have had a motive in them." "No doubt he had, Dad." The butler at that moment returned with the next course, therefore our intimate conversation was abruptly interrupted. As I sat at that table, lavishly spread and adorned with a wealth of flowers and a profusion of splendid old Georgian silver my eyes wandered to the sweet-faced girl who, in a low-cut gown of palest _eau-de-nil_ chiffon, with velvet in her hair to match, held me so entirely and utterly entranced. Later that evening, while I had a cigar alone with Shaw, who lay back lazily in his chair, I detected his annoyance that I should have watched him meet the woman Olliffe. And yet how cleverly he concealed his anger, for he was, on the contrary, apologetic for the abrupt ending of our motor-tour, and profuse in his thanks to me for my silence when interrogated by the police at Aix. Was this actually the man who had made the attempt to break open my safe and secure the bronze cylinder of Melvill Arnold? No! I could not believe it. He was an adventurer, without a doubt, but men of his stamp are invariably loyal to those who show them friendship. What, I wondered, had caused Guy Nicholson to doubt his affection for Asta? I certainly could detect nothing to cause me to arrive at such conclusion. The girl entered the room to obtain a book, whereupon, removing his cigar from his mouth, he said, in a low voice-- "Come and sit here, dear. I haven't been with you lately. I fear you must have found Bournemouth dreadfully dull." "Well, I did rather. Mr Kemball's unexpected arrival was most welcome, I assure you," she declared, sinking into a chair and placing both hands behind her beautiful head as she leaned back upon the yellow silk cushion.