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“As many thousands as you like,” he answered: then, as she sped away: “I will have her, and the millions too!” adding reminiscently: “Yes, Lady Lawless, this is my biggest deal.”

He tramped to the stables, asked for and got a horse, and rode away to the railway station. It was dinner time when he got back. He came down to dinner late, apologising to Lady Lawless as he did so. Glancing across the table at Mr. Pride, he saw a peculiar excited look in the young man’s face.

“The baby fool!” he said to himself. “He’s getting into mischief. I’ll startle him. If he knows that an army of his dollars is playing at fox-and-geese, he’ll not make eyes at Lady Lawless this way–little ass.”

Lady Lawless appeared oblivious of the young man’s devotional exercises. She was engaged on a more congenial theme. In spite of Miss Raglan’s excellent acting, she saw that something had occurred. Mr. Vandewaters was much the same as usual, save that his voice had an added ring. She was not sure that all was right; but she was determined to know. Sir Duke was amused generally. He led a pretty by-play with Mrs. Gregory Thorne, of whom he asked the details of the day, much to the confusion, not admirably hid, of Mr. Pride; lamenting now and then Mr. Vandewaters’s absence from the shooting.

Mr. Vandewaters was cool enough. He said that he had been playing at nine-pins with railways, which was good enough sport for him. Soon after dinner, he was handed two telegrams. He glanced slowly up at Pride, as if debating whether to tell him something. He evidently decided against it, and, excusing himself by saying he was off to take a little walk in Wall Street, went away to the telegraph office, where he stayed three hours.

The magnitude of the concerns, the admirable stoicism with which he received alarming news, his dry humour while they waited between messages–all were so unlike anything the telegraph-clerk had ever seen, or imagined, that the thing was like a preposterous dream. Even when, at last, a telegram came which the clerk vaguely felt was, somehow, like the fall of an empire, Mr. Vandewaters remained unmoved. Then he sent one more telegram, gave the clerk a pound, asked that the reply be sent to him as soon as it came, and went away, calmly smoking his cigar.

It was a mild night. When he got to the house he found some of the guests walking on the veranda. He joined them; but Miss Raglan was not with them; nor were Lady Lawless and Mr. Pride. He wanted to see all three, and so he went into the house. There was no one in the drawing-room. He reached the library in time to hear Lady Lawless say to Mr. Pride, who was disappearing through another door: “You had better ask advice of Mr. Vandewaters.”

The door closed. Mr. Vandewaters stepped forward.

He understood the situation. “I guess I know how to advise him, Lady Lawless,” he said.

She turned on him quietly, traces of hauteur in her manner. Her self-pride had been hurt. “You have heard?” she asked.

“Only your last words, Lady Lawless. They were enough. I feel guilty in having brought him here.”

“You need not. I was glad to have your friend. He is young and effusive. Let us say no more about it.

“He is tragically repentant; which is a pity. There is no reason why he should not stay, and be sensible. Why should young men lose their heads, and be so absurdly earnest?”

“Another poser, Lady Lawless.”

“In all your life you never misunderstood things so, I am sure.”

“Well, there is no virtue in keeping your head steady. I have spent most of my life wooing Madame Fortune; I find that makes a man canny.”

“She has been very kind to you.”

“Perhaps it would surprise you if I told you that at this moment I am not worth ten thousand dollars.” She looked greatly astonished. “I do not understand,” she said. She was thinking of what this might mean to Gracia Raglan.