say you golf?"
"Yes, a little. Would you give me a match?" he ventured.
"I'd love to," and her eyes flashed into his.
The next afternoon Dick met Lady Blanche on the golf links, and before the match was over he believed that he was in love with her. Never before had he met such a glorious specimen of physical womanhood. To him her every movement was poetry, her lithe, graceful body a thing in which to rejoice.
After the match Dick motored her back to her home. He was in Arcadia as she sat by his side. The charm of her presence was to him like some fabled elixir. On their way they caught a glimpse of Wendover Park. The old house stood out boldly on the hillside, while the wide-stretching park-lands were plainly to be seen.
"It's a perfect place," said the girl. "It just wants nothing."
"Oh yes, it does," laughed Dick.
"What?" she asked.
"Can't you think? If you were a bachelor you would," and he watched her face closely as he spoke.
He was afraid lest he might offend her, and he wondered if she saw his meaning. He thought he saw a flush surmount her face, but he was not sure. They were passing a cart just then, and he had to fix his attention on the steering-wheel.
"Do you know," he went on, "it's a bit lonely there. I haven't many friends. And then, being a bachelor, I find it difficult to entertain. Not but what I shall make a start soon," he added.
"I think you are to be envied," she remarked.
"Of course I am. I'm one of the luckiest fellows in the world. By the way, I want to give a dance or something of that sort as a kind of house-warming."
"How delightful."
"Is it? But then, you see, I'm so ignorant that I don't know how to start about it."
"Don't you? That's a pity. You must get help."
"I must. I say, will you help me? There is no one I'd so soon have."
He was sure this time. He saw the rosy tint on her face deepen. Perhaps she heard the tremor in his voice. But she did not answer him; instead, she looked away towards the distant landscape.
"Will you?" he persisted.
"What could I do?"
"Everything. You know the people, know who I should invite, and what I should do. You are accustomed to that kind of thing. I am not."
Still she was silent.
"Will you?" he asked again.
"Perhaps. If you really wish me to."
She almost whispered the words, but he heard her, and to him there was something caressing in her tone.
They passed up a long avenue of trees leading to her home, and a few seconds later the car stood at the door.
"You'll come in and have some tea, won't you?"
"May I?" he asked eagerly.
"Of course you may. Mother will be expecting you."
As he rode back to Wendover Park that evening Dick was in Paradise. Nothing but the most commonplace things had been said, but the girl had fascinated him. She had appealed to his ambition, to his pride, to his admiration for perfect, physical womanhood. She was not very clever, but she was handsome. She was instinct with redundant health; she was glorious in her youth and vitality.
"I'm in love," he said to himself more than once. "And she's wonderful – simply, gloriously wonderful. What eyes, what a complexion, what a magnificent figure! I wonder if – "
I am dwelling somewhat on this part of Dick Faversham's life because I wish the reader to understand the condition of his mind, to understand the forces at work. Uninteresting as it may be, it is still important. For Dick passed through some wonderful experiences soon after – experiences which shook the foundations of his life, and which will be more truly understood as we realise the thoughts and feelings which possessed him.
As I have said, he was in a state of bliss as he drove back to Wendover Park that evening, but as he neared his lodge gates a curious feeling of depression possessed him. His heart became heavy, forebodings filled his mind. It seemed to him that he was on the edge of a dreadful calamity.
"What's the matter with me?" he asked himself again and again. "The sun is shining, the world is lovely, and I have all that heart can wish for."
Still the feeling possessed him. Something was going to happen – something awful. He could not explain it, or give any reason for it, but it was there.
Then suddenly his heart stood still. As the car drew up to his own door he again saw the face of the angel. She was hovering over the entrance just as he had seen her on the day he came to take possession. She seemed to dread something; there was pain almost amounting to agony in the look she gave him.
He had alighted from the car, and he had a dim idea that a man was approaching to take it to the garage, but he paid no attention to him; he stood like one transfixed, looking at the apparition. He was aware that the car had gone, and that he was alone. In a vague way he supposed that the chauffeur, like the lawyer, had seen nothing.
"Who are you? What do you want?"
The words escaped him almost in spite of himself.
But he heard no voice in reply. He thought he saw her lips trying to formulate words, but were not able.
"Tell me," he persisted – "tell me who you are, why you appear to me. What do you want?"
Again the apparition seemed to be trying to become audible, only to fail. Then, although he could hear no distinct voice, her answer seemed to come to him.
"Fight, fight; pray, pray," she seemed to be saying. "Beware of the tempter. Fight, fight; pray, pray. Promise me."
He was not afraid, but it seemed to him that he was face to face with eternal realities. He knew then that there were depths of life and experience of which he was ignorant.
He heard steps in the hall, and then someone opened the door.
There stood, smiling, debonair, sardonic, and – yes – wicked, Count Romanoff.
CHAPTER VIII
Count Romanoff's Gospel
Count Romanoff!
A weight seemed to settle on Dick Faversham's heart as he saw the sinister face of his visitor. During the excitement of the last few days he had scarcely given him a thought. The dark, saturnine stranger had shrunk away into the background of his life, and no longer seemed of importance to him. It is true he had now and then wondered whether he should ever see him again, but as there seemed no present likelihood of his doing so, he had practically dismissed him from his mind.
His sudden appearance came to him like a shock. Besides, he was nervous, excited at what he had just experienced. Every nerve was tingling, every sense preternaturally awake. What did this apparition mean? Why should the same face and form appear to him again and again? – first in the smoke-room of the ship, then
