"I hate Lord Denningham."
"And you do not hate Michael? Aha! Gay, though I will not tease you now, but only wish you happiness when you seek it. Now run away and bring those two to me. We'll hold a Royalist Council between us which shall quash the designs of Trouet and his brood for ever."
So spoke Morice, lightly enough, yet with a deeper note vibrating in his voice—a note that had not been there before Cécile touched and set it throbbing with her little hand.
Gabrielle was laughing softly to herself as she sped away back over the lawns, and across the pretty rustic bridge, which led by way of the avenue to the house.
She did not notice how a man stood crouching amongst the shrubs to her left as she passed—so near that the hem of her white gown touched his foot.
But Lord Denningham smiled.
CHAPTER XXI
A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE
"He has gone!"