“I wonder if he is any relation of that Mounted policeman who came to North Star, when—”
“He is his cousin,” answered Joy quickly. “His father is Sir James Bracknell of Harrow Fell. Geoffrey is the second son.”
“Ah! I remember them,” broke in Sir Joseph. “There was another son who disgraced himself and his family. He disappeared. I wonder what has become of him. The succession to that estate will offer a pretty tangle for somebody to unravel some day, Adrian.”
His son nodded, but uttered no comment. His eyes were fixed on Joy, as if he found something particularly interesting in her demeanour at the moment. At his father’s words the splash of colour had ebbed swiftly from her cheeks leaving them rather pale, but Joy’s manner was perfectly self-possessed, and there was little to indicate that she was passing through a moment of stress. Her cousin still watched her when the others joined them, and at the moment of meeting flashed a quick searching glance at Geoffrey Bracknell. The young man’s face was eager. There was a light in his eyes that told that Mrs. Winter’s statement about his wish to renew acquaintance with Joy had not been over-coloured, and as he marked it, Adrian Rayner smiled enigmatically to himself.
Sir Joseph also noticed it, and it troubled him a little. He was thoughtful during the remainder of the lunch, and even more thoughtful when, on the evening of that same day, they again encountered young Bracknell in the foyer of the theatre. He was obviously waiting for them, and the lawyer was far from pleased to learn that he had taken the next box to his own. He was still less pleased when the young man made an excuse for visiting them between the acts, and it required all his skill to avoid an acceptance of the invitation to supper which he extended to Sir Joseph’s party.
“My dear Bracknell, you are too late. Our supper is already ordered. On another occasion, perhaps, but tonight it is quite impossible.”
“You did not tell me you had an admirer,” he said to Joy, rallying her a little time later.
“An admirer!” Joy laughed. “Who—”
“Young Bracknell! He is most obviously in love with you.”
“Oh no! no!” whispered Joy quickly, all the laughter dying suddenly from her face. “You are mistaken. It ... it would be too ... too....”