For some little time the captain and Violet rode on in silence.
As for him, he could have burst into a fit of wild and triumphant laughter, for he had won the day once more, and turned what would have been a glorious, joyous triumph for Leicester into a complete defeat.
That question and that wily remark had done the deed, and once more he had widened the gulf of jealousy and misunderstanding which yawned between John Mildmay's daughter and Leicester Dodson.
As they neared home, and after a little rambling conversation, he remarked, casually:
"I have been thinking, and I have concluded to wait until Mr. Thaxton comes down before I go into my little business matter. It is only a small, trivial affair about some money which I think ought to be due to me, and it can easily wait."
"Yes," said Violet, absently.
She was thinking of other than the captain's words, and his voice—smooth, silky and musical—fell on her ears like the plash, plash of a distant waterfall to a weary, heartsick traveler.
But his next words aroused her.
"And it has occurred to me," continued, in a graver tone, "that if you intend opening the deserted study, it would be as well to have the lawyer with us."