We all walked up the promenade together, but presently Lord Parkhurst took an opportunity to draw me a little behind the others.
"My dear fellow," he said kindly, "my daughter told me all your sad history when she came to rue from England. Do you know, I should like to know your father, Mr. Devereux, very much. My cousin was in his regiment, and always swore that there was something wrong about that court-martial. Do you think that he would mind my calling on him?"
I hesitated, at a loss how to decide.
"Well, well, let it be until you have asked him," Lord Parkhurst went on, good-humouredly. "We shall be here for a week or two, at any rate, and I hope that we shall see a good deal of you. We thought of going to see the convent at San Martino to-morrow. Will you join us?"
"The convent of San Martino?" I exclaimed. "Why, you will pass our house."
"Indeed! Then we will look in and see your father on our way back, if he has no objection. You'll come in for an hour?"
We had reached the entrance to the hotel, and Lady Olive was looking behind to see that I was following. But I shook my head.
"I have a six-mile ride over a rough country," I said, "and though the patience of mules is supposed to be inexhaustible, experience has taught me that that idea is a popular delusion. I've kept mine waiting four hours already, and I really must go."
"If you must, then," Lord Parkhurst said, holding out his hand, "where shall we see you to-morrow?"
"I'll come and meet you if you'll tell me what time you'll start."