"No, Eth," he said, "that will be all right."
Then, to avert suspicion, he rattled away to the countess, as she came in, in his old style, and actually spoke of Mr. Smythe in a friendly way.
It cost him something to be deceitful, but he did it, and succeeded in blinding them all.
The next day he was particular in his attentions to the ladies, and allowed himself to be inveigled into a game of croquet—a game he detested.
In the afternoon he went into the servants' hall and nodded to Ethel's maid.
She came out into the garden, and a conversation took place between her and Fitz, which was concluded by Fitz dropping some gold into her hand.
That evening he was more merry than ever, and not even a letter from Mr. Smythe, saying that he should be down the day following, depressed his spirits.
That night, when the countess and Ethel were seated in the drawing-room, the former gloating over the approaching wedding, the latter inwardly shrinking from and shuddering at it, Fitz rode over to Tenby and telegraphed the few significant words:
"Wheat has gone up."