“I wonder what he wants here,” thought the poet, with a frown on his expressive face. “A man like that does not come down to a quiet village for nothing. Can it be to see me? No! that is impossible, as he could not know I was here. Curious I never saw him in London, for he must have been there at the same time as myself, unless, indeed, he has just arrived in England. He has some scheme in his head, I am certain—if I could only see him alone and fathom his motives! Oh, you fox you! Cunning as you are, I will foil you. It is no good. You are after my friend, I’m sure of that.”
He walked forward a few paces, still pondering, then resumed his soliloquizing in a muttered tone.
“Roylands said this Caliphronas was coming over about six o’clock. He is staying at the Royland Arms, so I think I will walk over there and see him; but no, that will attract attention, and I wish to tell Roylands nothing yet. I will send a note; no, that will not do. Ah! I have it. I will wait at the park gates and speak to him before he comes up to the house. No one will know, and I can find out the reason of his presence here.”
Decidedly this poet was a remarkably mysterious person, not only as concerned his own personality, but also as regarded this brilliant stranger who was so equally enigmatic. If Maurice found his life dull now, it evidently was not going to be so for any length of time; and, although he knew it not, the elements of romance had come into it in the most unexpected way in the persons of Crispin and Constantine Caliphronas.
Having made up his mind, the poet thought no more about the Greek, but strolled round the side of the house to see if Eunice was at her window. He knew that Mrs. Dengelton especially affected a small boudoir in the left wing of the Grange, the window of which was only slightly raised above the terrace, and at this window Crispin felt sure Eunice would be. Fortunately for himself, he was right in his conjecture, for on arriving in sight of the casement, he saw Eunice sitting at it in a dejected attitude, evidently expectant of a visit from her lover.
“Miss Dengelton!” he said cautiously, not knowing but that the dragon might be within hearing, and therefore adopting society manners.
“She has gone out of the room for a few minutes,” said his lady in a frightened whisper. “Do go away.”
“What! when the coast is clear! Not if I know it.”
“I expect her back every minute.”
“Very well; till she arrives we can talk about ourselves, and even when she does we can surely chat about the weather.”