And when, five minutes later, he went slowly up the terrace steps he found that Josephine had gone away. “She said good-bye to you before she left the garden, did she not?” cried Amber, while he glanced round the room. “Oh, yes, she said good-bye,” he replied. And then he cried out, seeing Guy Overton on a stool: “Hullo, you here? Why, I thought that this was one of your school days.” Amber had never before heard him speak in so boisterous a tone. He usually spoke in a low voice. And she had also noticed that Josephine had laughed much louder than was her wont. But she was sure that Josephine had not been rude to him. Josephine was not one of those horrid girls who cannot be clever without being rude. CHAPTER XVI Guy has been telling me all about his great investment,” cried Amber. “You never mentioned it to us, Mr. Winwood. But perhaps you didn’t hear of it?” “You were the first one to whom I told it,” said Guy looking at her sentimentally. His tone was syrupy with sentimentality. Pierce laughed quite boisterously. “What has he been doing?” he said. “I certainly heard nothing of it. It hasn’t yet been put into the hands of that Mr. Bateman, the advertiser whom I have been eluding for the past fortnight. Have you bought the Duke’s racers or what?” “Not much,” said Guy. “I’ve got something more solid for my money.” “I’m not so sure of that,” said Pierce. “I saw one of the Duke’s racers and in the matter of solidity--but what have you bought?” “The Gables--I’ve just bought The Gables. You must come down and see me, Pierce, old chap--you really must.” He had the air of the old-fashioned proprietor--the owner of broad acres and so forth. “I can see you quite well enough from where I stand--that is, when you keep still. Don’t wriggle about, sonny, but tell me what are The Gables? Whose gables have you been buying?” “What are The Gables? What are--oh, he has just come from Australia. He has never heard of the historic mansion--see the agent’s catalogue--The historic mansion known as The Gables. Why, don’t you know enough of the history of your native land to be aware of the fact that it was at The Gables that King Charles the First--or was it Henry the First?--signed something or other.” “Magna Charta?” suggested Pierce blandly. “No, not Magna Charta,” said Guy with the natural irritation of a great scholar who, on forgetting for a moment an important name or date, hears the haphazard prompting of a tyro. “Not Magna Charta--that was somewhere else. Never mind, Nell Gwyn once lived at The Gables,” he added proudly. “You’ve heard of Nell Gwyn, I suppose?”