"I say, Faversham."
He turned and saw that Riggleton had joined him.
"Show me around a bit, will you? You see, the old man wouldn't have me here much, and—I should like to talk things over."
"I think, when Mr. Bidlake has got everything in order——"
"Oh, hang Bidlake! Besides, it's no use your talking about Bidlake. I've settled with him. You don't feel like talking, eh? Very well, let's go for a walk."
Almost instinctively Dick turned down the drive which led to the cottage where Beatrice Stanmore lived.
"Yes," reflected Riggleton, after they had walked some time in silence; "I suppose this kind of thing appeals to a poetical bloke like you seem to be. But it doesn't do for Tony R. I love a bit of life, I do. I always did. Did you ever hear that I ran away from school, and went off on my own when I was fifteen? Went to sea, I did, and knocked about the world. I had a rough time, too; that's why I've no polish now. But I know the value of money, I do, and you may bet your bottom dollar that I'll make things hum. Ah, here we are at the lodge gates."
Dick looked across a meadow, and saw old Hugh Stanmore's cottage. Even although it was some little distance away he could see the gaily coloured flowers in the garden and the pleasant quaintness of the cottage. But it was no longer his. In future it would belong to this clown by his side, and——
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a motor, and a few seconds later he caught sight of Lady Blanche Huntingford in her two-seater car. His heart gave a leap as he saw her put her foot on the clutch, while the car slowed down by his side.
The girl smiled into his face. "You've not forgotten your promise for to-morrow night, Mr. Faversham?" she said, and then, stopping the engine, she stepped lightly into the lane.