“A source of expense, more like, but I never heard that Francis Cheviot was a commoner like his cousin! Not but what he is like to ruin Bedlington, if he goes on his present pace. I heard that he dropped five thousand at Almack’s last week, and I dare say that’s not the half of it. I should be sorry for Bedlington, if he were not such an old fool.” He gave a short laugh. “He is in a great way over the trouble they are in at the Horse Guards.” Carlyon raised his brows in lazy inquiry. “Oh, information leaking out! Not my department, thank God! It’s forever happening. Bonaparte’s agents know their business very well.”

“I thought you were looking a little grave. Is it serious?”

“Serious enough, but they’re all as close as oysters over it. Of course, things do leak out. Well, if you have old fools like Bedlington dabbling their fingers in state affairs, what can you expect? There are plenty of people like him who can’t keep their tongues still. Oh, they don’t mean to give secrets away, but they’re damned indiscreet! That’s why Wellington has been keeping his plans so dark this time. But from what Bathurst told the doctor, there’s something more than indiscretion in this business. You won’t repeat this, Ned, but there’s an important memorandum gone astray, and they’re all in an uproar over it. By what I can make out, it’s to do with his lordship’s campaign for this spring, and there are only two copies in existence. You may guess what Bonaparte would give to have an inkling of what Wellington means to do, whether he will march on Madrid a second time, or strike in some new direction!”

“I can indeed! Do you say this memorandum has been stolen?”

“No, I don’t say that, but I do know it is missing. However, from all I have ever seen of the way they go on at the Horse Guards, it will very likely turn up in the wrong file, or some such thing.”

“You are severe!” Carlyon said, looking amused.

“Why, I dare say Torrens would say the same, for you must know that there are too many of Prinny’s creatures foisted on them at the Horse Guards, and a shabbier set of fellows you’d be hard put to it to find than most of ’em! Such jobbery!”

“Oh, now you are back at Bedlington!”

“Hun, and some others. Lord Bedlington!” John enunciated scornfully. “And why, pray?”

“Distinguished military career,” murmured Carlyon.

“Distinguished military fiddlesticks!” snorted John. “A.D.C. to the Regent! Pander to the Regent, more like! But, there! I do not know why I am boring on in this way. Will you be able to bring Nick off safe, do you think?”

“Yes. Though Eustace would have been glad to have injured him if he could have done it.”

“What a damned fellow he was!” John said warmly. “I should like to know what harm Nicky ever did him!”

“Well, he seems to have treated him very roughly tonight,” Carlyon pointed out. “But it was not Nicky he meant to hurt so much as me, through Nicky. Fortunately Greenlaw sent the nurse away as soon as Eustace began to talk, so there’s no harm done.”

“Oh, you had Greenlaw there, had you? Well, he’s a disrespectful old dog, but safe enough! Td give something to know what he must have thought of your freaks this night!”

Carlyon smiled. “Oh, I tried his civility too high, and he got to remembering helping me down from the church steeple, and digging the shot out of your leg, John, that time we stole one of my father’s fowling pieces, and I peppered you so finely—do you remember? He was within an ace of giving me as stem a homily as you have probably given Nick.”

“Impudent old rascal!” John said, grinning. “I wish he had done so! But, Ned! This will! Is it in order? Might it not be contested?”

“I believe it is legal enough. I shall certainly not contest it.”

“Not you, no! But Bedlington must be next of kin to Eustace, and it occurs to me that he might try to set the will aside on that score. For once Eustace was married—”

“No, you are. forgetting. By the terms of the original settlement, in default of appointment by Eustace, the estate must have devolved upon me. To invalidate the will would not benefit Bedlington.”

“True, so it was! Did you think to name an executor?”

“Yes, myself and Finsbury.”

“That was a good thought, to bring a lawyer into it,” John approved. “But I must say I wish you were well out of the business!”

“Why, so I soon shall be, I trust,” Carlyon said, setting down his empty glass and rising to his feet.

“It seems to me you are left with this widow on your hands!”

“Nonsense! Once probate has been granted I dare say she will sell the estate, and I hope she may be able to live very comfortably upon the proceeds.”

“It has been so mismanaged since Eustace came of age that she may find it hard to find a purchaser,” John said pessimistically. “Ten to one, too, there will be so many charges on it that the poor girl will find herself in a worse case than ever. Was he in the moneylenders’hands, do you know?”

“I don’t, but I should think very likely. His debts will have to be paid, of course.”

“Not by you!” John said sharply.

“Well, we shall see how it goes. How long are you staying with us, John?”

“I must be in London tomorrow, but I shall come back, of course, now that things have turned out in this way.”

“You need not.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt you will manage it very well without me!” John said, smiling at him. “But that young rascal will have to give his evidence at the inquest, and naturally I shall not stay away at such a time.”

Carlyon nodded. “As you please. Snuff the candles if you are coming to bed—I told the servants they need not sit up longer.”

“I have a letter I must finish first. Good night, old fellow!”

“Good night.” Carlyon picked up the branch of candles that stood on one of the tables and went to the door.

John had seated himself at the desk again, but he looked round. “I don’t know why I should be surprised at Nicky’s wild ways, after all!” he remarked. “I still have the scars of those shots in my leg!”

Carlyon laughed and went out, closing the door behind him. John stayed looking after him for a moment, a half smile on his lips, then he sighed, shook his head, and turned back to his correspondence.

Mrs. Cheviot slept late into the morning, being, awakened at last by a maidservant who brought her a cup of chocolate arid the information that breakfast would be served in the parlor at the foot of the stairs. She placed a brass can of hot water on the washstand, and after ascertaining that madam required no assistance at her toilet, withdrew again.

Elinor sat up in bed, luxuriously sipping her chocolate and wondering how many of the fantastic events of the previous day had had existence only in her imagination. Her presence in this well-ordered household seemed to indicate that at least some of them had been real. She was unable to refrain from contrasting her present situation with what would have in all probability been her lot in Mrs. Macclesfield’s house, and she would have been more than human had she not enjoyed the very striking difference. She got up presently and looked out of the window. It commanded a view of some formal gardens, just now showing only some snowdrops in flower, and beyond these the outskirts of a park. Lord Carlyon was evidently a man of consequence and fortune, and nothing, she reflected, could be more unlike the squalor of his cousin’s house than the quiet elegance of his own establishment.

She dressed herself in one of her sober-hued round gowns, and putting a Paisley shawl over her shoulders, betook herself downstairs. While she hesitated in the hall, not quite knowing where she should go, the butler came through a door at the back of the house, bowed civilly to her, and ushered her into a snug parlor, where her host and his two brothers were awaiting her before a bright fire.

Carlyon came forward at once to take her hand. “Good morning. I trust you are rested, ma’am?”

“Yes, indeed, thank you. I do not think I can have stirred the whole night through.” She smiled, and bowed to the other two men. “I fear I have kept you waiting.”

“No, no such thing. Will you not be seated? The coffee will be brought in directly.”

She took her place at the table, feeling shy, and glad of the butler’s presence in the room, which made it impossible for the conversation to go beyond the commonplace. While Carlyon exchanged views with John on the probable nature of the weather, she took covert stock of him. He proved, when seen in the light of day, to be quite as personable a man as she had fancied him to be. Without being precisely handsome, his features were good, his carriage easy, and his shoulders, under a well-cut coat of superfine cloth, very broad. He was dressed with neatness and propriety, and although he wore breeches and top boots in preference to the pantaloons and hessians favored by town dwellers, there was no suggestion in his appearance of the slovenly country squire. His brother John was similarly neat; but the high shirt collar affected by Nicky, and his complicated cravat, indicated to Elinor’s experienced eye an incipient dandyism. That Nicky’s attire had been the subject of argument soon became apparent, for at the first opportunity he said in a contumacious tone, “I do not see how I should well wear mourning for Eustace. I mean, when you consider—”

“I did not say you should wear mourning,” interrupted John. “But that waistcoat you have on is the outside of enough!”

“Let me tell you,” said Nicky indignantly, “that this fashion in waistcoats is all the crack up at Oxford!”

“I dare say it may be, but you are not, more shame to you, up at Oxford at this present, and it would be grossly improper for you to be going about the countryside, with our cousin but just dead, in a cherry-striped waistcoat.”