"No, no," she said. "They won't know which it is—they never do."
"I'll go for it, then," he said, gracefully. "Can't lose the game, you know."
"Will you?" she said, eagerly. "It stands on the hall table——"
"I know," he said. "Wait a moment!" he called out to the others, and bolted off.
Lenore looked after him for a moment, then she glanced round. The other two were standing discussing the game; the on-lookers were gathered round the champagne cup. Lady Wyndward was lost in thought, with eyes bent to the ground.
The beauty's eyes flashed, and her face grew slightly pale. Her eyes wandered to the coat, she hesitated for a moment, then she walked leisurely toward it and stooped down and picked up the bracelet. As she did so she turned the coat over with her other hand, and drew the note from the pocket.
A glance put her in possession of the address, and she returned the note to its place, and strolled back to the tennis-court with an unmoved countenance; but her heart beat fast, as her acute brain seized upon the problem and worked it out.
A note to the boy! A letter which can be confided to no less trusty a hand than Lord Charles! Leycester's sudden departure for London! Lord Charles's confusion and embarrassment! Secresy and mystery! What does it mean?
A presentiment seemed to possess her that a critical moment had arrived. She seemed to feel, by instinct, that some movement was in progress by which she should lose all chance of securing Leycester.
Her heart beat fast, so fast that the delicate veins in her white hands throbbed; but she still smiled, and even glided across to Lady Wyndward, who sat thoughtfully in the shade, looking at the tennis, but thinking of Leycester.