Leicester stood for a moment looking at her as she glided with her peculiar grace into the chatter of voices and the light dance music which Ethel, with Bertie at her side, was evoking at the piano, then turned and strode out onto the terrace.
He leaned his arms on the coping and stared into the night.
"What is she? a flirt, a heartless coquette, a beautiful falsehood, or what?"
As he asked himself the question he heard the bushes stir beneath him.
It did not attract his attention, and he did not glance down until he saw something dark move from beneath the laurels.
Then, with his usual rapidity of resolve, he lightly vaulted over the terrace and dropped close beside the figure.
It rose from the ground surprised and startled.
Leicester's hand grasped a man's shoulder, and turned him round.
It was Captain Murpoint's servant, Mr. Jem.
In a moment Leicester saw part of the hand.