What he didn't know about Macartney, Lucy did know; what he didn't know about Lucy was that she had found out James. James as Eros wouldn't do, chiefly because such conduct on James's part would have been incredible. Urquhart didn't know it would be incredible, nor did he know that she did.
One other thing he didn't know, which was that Lucy was half his own before she started for Martley. She, in fact, didn't know it either. She had been his from the moment when she had asked him to keep out of the air, and he had declined.
All this is necessary matter, because in the light of it his next deliberated move in his game was a bad mistake.
On the night before she was expected at Martley, being there himself, he wrote her a letter to this effect:
"Dear Mrs. Macartney: To my dismay and concern I find that I can't be here to receive you, nor indeed until you are on the point to go away. I shall try hard for Sunday, which will give me one day with you—better to me than a thousand elsewhere. Vera will be my curate. Nothing will be omitted which will show you how much Martley owes you, or how much I am, present or absent, yours,
"J. U."
That letter he gave to Vera Nugent to deliver to Lucy. Vera wanted to know what it was all about.
"It's to say that I can't be here," he said. "That is the fact, unfortunately."
"Why, my dear Jimmy, I thought you adored her. Isn't the poor lady the very latest?"
"My dear girl, I do adore her. Leave it at that. It's an excellent reason for not being here: the best. But I'm going up with a star, which is another reason. And I hope to be here on Sunday, which is the most I can afford myself. Really, that's all. But you like her, you say; or you should."