"We shan't be so very late."
"I should prefer not to be late," said Lord Henry, "I know Sir Joseph studies punctuality."
Truth to tell, the young nobleman's imagination had for the last few minutes been busy with more vital matters than the framing of fresh contributions to the Arabian Nights' Entertainment, and he was feeling none too well at ease. It had occurred to him that his drastic action might have more disastrous effects than merely nipping Denis's passion in the bud, and he wished to rejoin the company at Brineweald at the earliest possible moment.
"I assure you, Lord Henry, that you can take it much more easily," cried Leonetta.
"Let me give you my arm," he suggested. "That will help you."
She took his arm, and he proceeded to tell her how probably a chance unpleasant word dropped by Charles I. to Lady Carlisle had ultimately led to the Grand Rebellion.
Meanwhile, Denis Malster, panting more with fury than from the violent exercise he had taken, had reached the terrace of Brineweald Park, and was looking about him for someone to whom he could confide his incriminating intelligence against Lord Henry.
"All alone?" cried Mrs. Delarayne, coming towards him. "My word, how hot you look!"
"Vanessa and Tribe are close behind," he said; "they'll be here in a minute. Where are the others?"
"Cleopatra, Agatha, Agnes, and Guy have just come in," replied the widow. "But where's Leonetta?"