As he had anticipated, there was a lull that day in the activity of the enemy—at any rate of overt attempts. No communication reached him from Azimoolah, who would certainly have been heard from if suspicious characters had been on the move in the neighborhood of the mansion; for, though unseen, that tireless tracker might be trusted to be at his post, which was anywhere and everywhere within the radius of a mile. The denser thickets of the park possibly concealed him, or it might be that he hovered in the nearer precincts of the gardens, unseen but ready. His presence relieved the General from disturbing the routine of the household by special instructions to the servants, who were still fluttered by the lassooing of the lame gardener on the previous Sunday. So far, all the precaution that the General had delegated to others than himself and Forsyth was to give the bailiff a quiet hint, as a message from the Duke, not to admit the "artists" to the park, should they present themselves again. But up to the hour of luncheon the painters of "deer like unto swine" had not renewed their application or put in an appearance.
In the afternoon Beaumanoir, shaking off some of his weary apathy, went down to the portico with his male guests to receive the four ladies, who arrived in time for tea, which, with the General's acquiescence, was to be taken on the terrace. No sooner were the first greetings over than Mrs. Sadgrove caught her husband's eye and telegraphed the information that she had something for his private ear at the earliest opportunity. He therefore contrived to lag behind with her while Beaumanoir did the honors to Leonie and her mother, and Forsyth paired off with Sybil, as the party mounted the marble steps to the terrace.
"Jem," said Mrs. Sadgrove, scanning the rugged face of her spouse with a sidelong scrutiny, "I received an anonymous letter this morning. Let them get ahead a bit, and I'll show it to you."
The screed which she put into his hand contained but five words:
"There is danger from Ziegler."
General Sadgrove's Eastern experiences had not educated him into an expert in calligraphy, but it needed no particular insight to perceive that this was a lady's handwriting, clumsily disguised. He transferred his attention to the paper, half a sheet of "note"; and here he was rewarded with a startling discovery. He had noticed that the letter of acceptance from Mrs. Talmage Eglinton, which the Duke had received at breakfast, had been heavily charged with a peculiar perfume, and this unsigned missive was simply reeking of the same pungent fragrance. He had sat next the Duke, and knew that there was no mistake.
"You have no idea who sent this?" he asked.
"I seem to recognize the scent as having come to me before in notes—proper, signed notes," Mrs. Sadgrove replied, evasively. And then she added, with gentle significance, not from curiosity, but from a desire to help him in case he did not know: "I heard the name of Ziegler when we were calling at the Cecil yesterday. It was mentioned, I think, by one of the attendants as that of the gentleman occupying the rooms where the disturbance was."
The General looked hard at her, and saw that his little drama had not deceived the companion of his Indian days.
"Yes," he said, shortly. "Do not trouble about this, Madge. It's all in the day's work."