"I see"—he took it, with more penetration than enthusiasm, as a hint in respect to himself. "She puts you on your guard."
Lady Sandgate expressed it more graciously. "She puts me on my honour—or at least her father does."
"As to her seeing me?"
"As to my seeing at least—what may happen to her."
"Because—you say—things have happened?"
His companion fairly sounded him. "You've only talked—when you've met—of 'art'?"
"Well," he smiled, "'art is long'!"
"Then I hope it may see you through! But you should know first that Lord Theign is presently due———"
"Here, back already from abroad?"—he was all alert.
"He has not yet gone—he comes up this morning to start."
"And stops here on his way?"
"To take the train de luxe this afternoon to his annual Salsomaggiore. But with so little time to spare," she went on reassuringly, "that, to simplify—as he wired me an hour ago from Dedborough—he has given rendez-
