Mr. Comyn, who was talking earnestly to Mr. Hammond, turned at once, and bowed, “I shall be happy to do so, sir.”

Rupert called out: “Hey, where are you off to, Léonie? Tell me, do we spend the night in this place?”

“I don’t know,” Léonie answered. “I am going to make the acquaintance of this Mademoiselle Challoner.”

She went out, followed by Mr. Comyn, and his lordship shook his head gloomily. “It won’t do, Vidal. You can talk your mother over, but if you think your father will stand this you don’t know him. Lord, I wish I were well out of it!” He became aware of his nephew’s coatless and bootless state. “For God’s sake, boy, put your clothes on!” he begged.

Vidal laughed, and sat down to pull on his boots. His uncle observed them through his glass with considerable interest. “Did Haspener make those for you, Vidal?”

“Lord, no!” said the Marquis scornfully. “What, does he make yours still? These are a pair of Martin’s.”

“Martin, eh? I’ve a mind to let him make me a pair. I don’t like your coats, I don’t like your stock-buckle, your hats have too rakish a cock for a man of my years, your waistcoats are damned unimaginative, but one thing I’ll allow: your boots are the best made in the town, ay, and the highest polished. What does your fellow use on ’em? I’ve tried a blacking made with champagne, but it ain’t as good as you’d expect.”

Mr. Hammond broke in on this with unconcealed impatience. “Sir, is this a moment in which to discuss the rival merits of your bootmakers? Lord Vidal! Finding me adamant, Mr. Comyn has favoured me with an explanation of this extraordinary situation.”

“He has, has he?” said the Marquis, looking round for his coat.

“Devilish fluent, he was,” nodded Lord Rupert. “Y’know, Vidal, it’s a bad business, but you can’t marry the girl. There’s the name to be thought on, and what’s more, Justin.”

Mr. Hammond cast him a fulminating glance, but addressed himself to the Marquis. “My lord, his explanation leaves me horrified, I may say aghast, at the impropriety of your lordship’s behaviour. My instinct, sir, is to wash my hands of the whole affair. If I relent, it is out of no desire to oblige one whose mode of life is abhorrent to me, but out of compassion for the unfortunate young female whose fair name you have sullied, and in the interests of morality.”

Lord Rupert stopped swinging his eyeglass, and said indignantly: “Damme, I’d not be married by this fellow if I were you, Vidal. Not that I’m saying you should be married at all, for the thing’s preposterous.”

Vidal shrugged. “What do you suppose I care for his opinion of me so long as he does what I want?”

“Well, I don’t know,” said his lordship. “Things are come to a pretty pass, so they are, when any plaguey parson takes it on himself to preach a damned sermon to your face. Why, in my father’s time — you never knew him: devilish bad-tempered man he was — in his time, I say, if the chaplain said aught he didn’t like — and from the pulpit, mind you! — he’d throw his snuff-box at him, or anything else he had to hand ... Now what’s to do?”

The Duchess had come back into the room in a hurry. She is not there, mon fils,” she announced, not entirely without relief.

“What?” Vidal said quickly. “Not there?”

“She is not in the inn. I do not know where she is. No one knows.”

The Marquis almost brushed past her, and went out. Léonie sighed, and looked at Rupert. “I cannot help being a little glad that she has gone,” she confessed. “But why does she run away so much? I find it not at all easy to understand.”

Juliana, who had been sitting for a long time by the fire, staring into it, now raised her voice. “You don’t want Vidal to marry her, Aunt Léonie, but indeed she is the very one for him. She loves him, too.”

“Eh bien, if she loves him I understand less than ever why she runs away.”

“She thinks she is not good enough for him,” said Juliana.

Mr. Hammond picked up his hat. “Since I apprehend that the unfortunate female I came here to serve has departed, I shall beg to take my leave. To perform this marriage service would have been vastly repugnant to me, and I can only be thankful that the need for it no longer exists.”

The Duchess’s large eyes surveyed him critically. “If you are going, m’sieur, it is a very good thing, for I find you infinitely de trop, and in a little while I shall be out of all patience with you.”

Mr. Hammond’s jaw dropped perceptibly at this unexpected severity, and he became extremely red about the gills. Lord Rupert pressed his hat and cane upon him with great promptitude, and lounged over to open the door. “Outside, Sir Parson!” he said cheerfully.

“I shall relieve your grace of my unwelcome presence at once,” announced Mr. Hammond awfully, and bowed.

“Never mind your civilities,” recommended his lordship. “They come a trifle late. But one word in your ear, my buck! If you bandy my nephew’s name about in connection with this affair, my friend Lord Manton will look for another bear-leader for his cub. Do you take me?”

“Your threats, sir, leave me unmoved,” replied Mr. Hammond. “But I can assure your lordship that my one desire is to forget the prodigiously disagreeable events of this day.” He grasped his cane tighter in his hand, tucked his hat under his arm, and went out, very erect and stiff.

Lord Rupert kicked the door to. “Let’s hope that’s the last we’ll see of that fellow,” he said. “Now what’s all this about Vidal’s wench? Gone off, has she? Well, that’s one problem off our hands.”

“That is just what I thought,” sighed the Duchess. “But Dominique is in love with her, and I fear very much he will try to find her, and if he does he says he will marry her, which is a thing I find very worrying.”

“Marry her? What does the boy want to marry her for?” asked his lordship, puzzled. “It don’t seem sense to me. First the girl’s off with him, then she has a fancy for young Comyn — oh, are you there, my boy? Well, it makes no odds — and now I’ll be pinked if she hasn’t gone off again, though whom she’s gone with this time is beyond me.”

Mr. Comyn said gravely: “Your lordship is mistaken in Miss Challoner. I can explain — ”

“No, no, don’t do that, my boy!” said Rupert hastily. “We’ve had enough explanations. What we want is dinner. Where’s that rascally landlord?” He went to the door, but as he opened it he bethought himself of something, and looked back. “Burn it, if we do get rid of Vidal’s wench there’s still that silly chit Juliana. What’s to be done with her?”

Juliana said in a small, dignified voice: “I am here, Uncle Rupert.”

“Of course you’re there. I’ve eyes in my head, haven’t I?” said his lordship testily. “Though why you’re here the Lord only knows. Well, there’s naught for it: you’ll have to marry young Comyn here, unless Vidal will have you, which I don’t think he will. Lord, was there ever such a family?”

Mr. Comyn was regarding Juliana fixedly. She did not look at him, but blushed, and stammered: “I do not want to — to marry Mr. Comyn, and he does not want to marry m-me.”

“Now don’t start to make a lot more difficulties!” begged his lordship. “You can’t go chasing all over France with a man, and leaving silly letters for a born fool like Elisabeth, and stay single. Why, it’s unheard of!”

“I did not go with a — a man!” said Juliana, blushing more deeply still. “I went with my cousin.”

“I know you did,” said Rupert frankly. “That’s what’s bothering me.”

The Duchess was pondering over her own worries, but this caught her attention, and she fired up. “It is perfectly respectable for Juliana to go with my son, Rupert!”

“It ain’t,” said Rupert. “She couldn’t have chosen a worse companion. Now don’t be in a heat, Léonie, for God’s sake! I don’t say the chit wasn’t as safe with Vidal as with that devilish dull brother of hers, but there ain’t a soul will believe that. No, we’ll have to set it about that she went off with Comyn, and you can tell Fanny, for I’ll be damned if I do.”

Léonie glanced from her niece’s hot face to Mr. Comyn’s intent one, and drew her own conclusions. “Juliana shall not marry anyone at all if she doesn’t want to, and no one will make a scandal because I am here, and so it is quite convenable,” she said. “Go and order dinner, Rupert. Me, I must at once find Dominique before he does anything dreadful.”

She pushed his lordship, protesting, out of the room, and looked back to say with her roguish smile: “M. Comyn, I think it would be a very good thing if you gave this foolish Juliana a big shake, and then perhaps she will not be foolish any more. Au revoir, mes enfants.” She whisked herself out of the room, but before she had time to shut the door she heard Mr. Comyn say in a low voice: “Miss Marling — Juliana — I implore you, listen to me!”

Léonie took Rupert’s arm confidingly. “That goes very well, I think. We are doing a great deal, you and I, n’est-ce pas?” She gave a gurgle of laughter. “We have made Juliana a mésalliance, which will enrage poor Fanny, and perhaps Monseigneur too, and now perhaps we shall keep Dominique away from that girl, and that will please Monseigneur, and he will forgive us. Let us find Dominique.”

Lord Rupert professed himself to be utterly without desire to find his nephew, and went off to the kitchens to order and inspect his dinner. Léonie heard her son’s voice raised in the courtyard at the back of the house, and looked through a window to see him giving instructions to his groom. She promptly hurried out to him, and demanded to know what he was doing.

He looked at her with a trace of impatience in his face. He was rather pale, she thought, and there was a frown in his eyes. “Madame, Mary has run from me to hide herself in France with naught but an odd guinea or two in her pocket. I must find her. It touches my honour, not my heart alone.”