“W-well, I think perhaps I d-don’t care very much for Handel either,” remarked Horatia, as they filed out of the hall. “Though now I c-come to think of it, I believe M-mama said that Susanna was not a very good oratorio. Some of the singing was p-pretty, wasn’t it?”

“Never heard such a din in my life!” said the Viscount. “Let’s go and bespeak some supper.”

Green goose and burgundy partaken of in one of the boxes did much to restore his equanimity, and he had just told Horatia that they might as well stay where they were in comfort until midnight, when Sir Roland, who had been studying the throng through his quizzing-glass, suddenly said: “Ain’t that Miss Winwood, Pel?”

The Viscount nearly choked over his wine. “Good God, where?”

Horatia set down her glass of ratafia. “Ch-Charlotte?” she gasped.

“Over there—blue sacque—pink ribbons,” said Sir Roland, pointing.

“I c-can’t see, but it sounds very l-like,” said Horatia pessimistically. “She will wear blue and it d-doesn’t become her in the least.”

By this time the Viscount had perceived his elder sister, and gave a groan. “Ay, it’s Charlotte sure enough. Lord, she’s with Theresa Maulfrey!”

Horatia caught up her cloak and her reticule and retired to the back of the box. “If Theresa sees us she’ll c-come and join us, and we shall n-never shake her off!” she said agitatedly. “P-Pel, do come away!”

The Viscount consulted his watch. “Eleven o’clock. What the deuce do we do now?”

“We shall have to w-walk about the gardens,” decided Horatia. “D-dodge them, you know.”

Apparently Mrs Maulfrey’s guests were also seized by an inclination to wander about the gardens. No less than five times did the two parties almost converge and the Viscount whisk his sister round to hurry off down a different path, and when the conspirators at last found a secluded seat in the Lover’s Walk the Viscount sank down upon it quite exhausted and declared that his sister might in the future lose every jewel in the Drelincourt collection before he would stir a finger to help her to recover them.

Sir Roland, always gallant, protested. “Pel, dear old boy, Pel!” he said reprovingly. “Assure your la’ship—pleasure to be of assistance!”

“You can’t say it’s a pleasure to dodge round shrubberies and corners for the best part of an hour!” objected the Viscount. “Not but what if we can but lay hands on Lethbridge I don’t say it won’t have been worth it.”

“What are you g-going to do with him?” inquired Horatia with interest.

“Never you mind!” replied the Viscount darkly, and exchanged a glance with Sir Roland. “What do you make the time, Pom?”

Sir Roland consulted his watch. “All but ten minutes to the hour, Pel.”

“Well, we’d best be moving,” said the Viscount, getting up.

Sir Roland laid a hand on his arm. “Just thought of something,” he said. “Suppose we find someone else in the temple?”

“Not at midnight,” replied the Viscount, having considered the matter. “Everyone’s at supper. Lethbridge must have thought of that. Are you ready, Horry? You ain’t scared?”

“Of c-course I’m not scared!” said Horatia scornfully.

“Well, don’t forget what you’ve to do,” said the Viscount. “We’ll leave you at the bottom of the Long Walk. Won’t do to escort you any further. Fellow might be watching. All you have to do—”

“D-don’t tell me all over again, P-Pel!” begged Horatia. “You and Sir R-Roland will go to the temple the other way and hide and I am to g-go slowly up the Long Walk. And I’m not in the least afraid, except of meeting Charlotte’

Several secluded paths led to the little temple at the end of the Long Walk, and since it was conveniently surrounded by flowering shrubs the Viscount and Sir Roland had no difficulty in concealing themselves hard by it. Sir Roland, indeed, was unfortunate enough to scratch himself on a particularly thorny rose-bush, but as there was no one within earshot at the moment this did not signify.

Meanwhile Horatia trod up the Long Walk, keeping a wary eye cocked for any sign of her sister. The Viscount had been right in supposing that most of the company would be at supper; Horatia met few people on the way. One or two couples were strolling down the Walk; near the lower end a party of young ladies were ogling in a very ill-bred manner every gentleman who passed; but towards the upper end the Walk grew more and more deserted. Encountering at first one or two stares from young bucks, Horatia felt rather conspicuous in being quite unattended, but her alarming frown stood her in good stead, and a rakish gentleman in puce satin who had taken a step in her direction retreated hastily.

The Walk was lit by coloured lamps, but a fine moon riding high in the sky made these almost superfluous, though pretty. At the end of the Walk Horatia could see the little temple, incongruously festooned with lanterns. She wondered where her faithful swains were lying in ambush and what Captain Heron was talking about in Grosvenor Square.

A few shallow steps led up to the temple. Feeling in spite of her brave words just a trifle apprehensive, Horatia paused at the foot of them and glanced nervously around. She thought that she had caught the sound of footsteps.

She was right. Someone was approaching down one of the smaller paths that led to the temple.

She drew her cloak closer about her shoulders, hesitated a moment, and then setting her lips firmly ran up the steps and into the temple.

The footsteps came nearer and she heard them on the steps and resolutely faced the pillared archway, secure in the knowledge that Pelham was within hail.

She was prepared for Lethbridge, or for a masked form, or even for a hired ruffian, but none of these sinister apparitions met her bemused gaze. It was the Earl of Rule who stood on the threshold.

“R-Rule!” she stammered. “Oh, d-dear, whatever shall I—I mean how you s-startled me! I was waiting for P-Pelham. I n-never expected to see you!”

The Earl came across the marble floor to her side. “You see, I was able to—er—escape from Edward,” he said.

Outside, Sir Roland Pommeroy whispered aghast: “Pel—Pel, dear fellow—did you see?”

“See?” hissed the Viscount. “Of course I saw! Now what’s to be done? The devil seize that fool Heron!”

Inside, Horatia said with a hollow little laugh: “How—how d-delightful that you c-could come after all! Have—have you had s-supper?”

“No,” replied his lordship. “I didn’t come for supper, you know. I came to find you.”

Horatia forced a smile. “That was very p-pretty of you, sir. But—but you should take some s-supper. Do pray g-go and bespeak a b-box and I will w-wait for P-Pel and bring him to join you.”

The Earl looked down at her whimsically. “My dear, you are very anxious to be rid of me, are you not?”

Horatia’s eyes lifted quickly to his, brimful of sudden tears. “N-no, I am not! Only I—oh, I c-can’t explain!” she said wretchedly.

“Horry,” said his lordship, gathering her hands into his, “once I thought you trusted me.”

“I do—oh, I do!” cried Horatia. “Only I’ve been such a bad wife, and I did m-mean not to get into a scrape while you were away, and though it w-wasn’t my fault it n-never would have happened if I hadn’t d-disobeyed you and l-let Lethbridge be a f-friend, and even if you b-believe me, which I d-don’t see how you can, because it’s such an impossible story, you w-won’t ever forgive me for having m-made another d-dreadful scandal!”

The Earl retained his hold on her hands. “But, Horry, what have I done that you should think me such a bugbear?”

“You aren’t a bugbear!” she said vehemently. “But I know you’ll w-wish you’d never m-married me when you hear what a scrape I am in!”

“It would have to be a very bad scrape to make me wish that,” said his lordship.

“W-well, it is,” replied Horatia candidly. “And it’s all in such a m-muddle I don’t know how to explain it.” She cast an anxious glance towards the archway. “I d-daresay you are wondering why I am in this place all by m-myself. Well—”

“Not at all,” said Rule. “I know why you are here.”

She blinked at him. “B-but you can’t know!”

“But I do,” said Rule gently. “You came to meet me.”

“No, I d-didn’t,” said Horatia. “In fact, I c-can’t imagine how you knew I was here.”

His eyes were alight with amusement. “Can’t you, Horry?”

“N-no, unless—” her brows snapped together. “Oh, surely Edward c-can’t have b-betrayed me?” she exclaimed.

“Certainly not,” said his lordship. “Edward made a most—really, a most praiseworthy—attempt to keep me at home. Indeed, I believe that if I had not taken him into my confidence he would have barred me into my own house.” He slipped his hand into his pocket and drew it out again. “I came, Horry, to keep an assignation with a lady, and to restore to her—that.”

The ring-brooch lay in the palm of his hand. Horatia gave a choked cry. “M-Marcus!” Her startled eyes flew to his and saw them smiling down at her. “Then you—but how? Where did you f-find it?”

“In Lord Lethbridge’s possession,” replied Rule.

“Then—then you know? You knew all the t-time? But how c-could you have? Who t-told you?”

“Crosby told me,” said the Earl. “I am afraid I was rather rough with him, but I didn’t think it would be good for him to know how deeply I was indebted to him.”

“Crosby!” said Horatia, her eyes kindling. “Well, I don’t care if he is your cousin, Rule, I think he is the m-most odious toad alive and I hope you strangled him!”

“I did,” said the Earl.

“I am very glad to hear it,” said Horatia warmly. “And if it was he who t-told you, you c-can’t possibly know the t-truth, because for one th-thing he wasn’t there and d-doesn’t know anything about it, and for another I am perfectly certain he made up some horrid t-tale just to put you against me!”