interesting conversation in which my name has not been mentioned!” she repeated satirically.
“I think you were coming into it before very long,” Dominey assured her. “His Excellency warned me that all he had said so far was merely the prelude to a matter of larger importance.”
Stephanie smiled.
“Dear Maurice is so diplomatic,” she murmured. “I am perfectly certain he is going to begin by remonstrating you for your shocking treatment of me.”
Their conversation was interrupted for a few minutes by the sport. Dominey called the faithful Middleton to his side for a further supply of cartridges. Stephanie bided her time, which came when the beaters at last emerged from the wood.
“Shocking,” Stephanie repeated reverting to their conversation, “is the mildest word in my vocabulary which I can apply to your treatment of me. Honestly, Leopold, I feel bruised all over inside. My pride is humbled.”
“It is because you look at the matter only from a feminine point of view,” Dominey persisted.
“And you,” she answered in a low tone, “once the fondest and the most passionate of lovers, only from a political one. You think a great deal of your country, Leopold. Have I no claims upon you?”
“Upon Everard Dominey, none,” he insisted. “When the time comes, and Leopold Von Ragastein can claim all that is his right, believe me, you will have no cause to complain of coldness or dilatoriness. He will have only one thought, only one hope—to end the torture of these years of separation as speedily as may be.”
The strained look passed from her face. Her tone became more natural.
“But, dear,” she pleaded, “there is no need to wait. Your Sovereign gives you permission. Your political chief will more than endorse it.”
“I am on the spot,” Dominey replied, “and believe me I know what is safest and best. I cannot live as two men and keep my face steadfast to the world. The Prince, however, has not spoken to me yet. I will hear what he has to say.”
Stephanie turned a little haughtily away.
“You are putting me in the position of a supplicant!” she exclaimed. “To- night we must have an understanding.”
The little party moved on all together to another cover. Rosamund had joined them and hung on to Dominey’s arm with delight. The brisk walk across the park had brought colour to her cheeks. She walked with all the free and vigorous grace of a healthy woman. Dominey found himself watching her, as she deserted him a little later on to stand by Terniloff’s side, with a little thrill of tangled emotions. He felt a touch on his arm. Stephanie, who was passing with another of the guns, paused to whisper in his ear:
“There might be a greater danger—one that has evaded even your cautious mind—in overplaying your part!”
Dominey was taken possession of by Caroline on their walk to the next stand. She planted herself on a shooting stick by his side and commenced to take him roundly to task.
“My dear Everard,” she said, “you are one of the most wonderful examples of the reformed rake I ever met! You have even acquired respectability. For heaven’s sake, don’t disappoint us all!”
“I seem to be rather good at that,” Dominey observed a little drearily.
“Well, you are the master of your own actions, are you not?” she asked. “What I want to say in plain words is, don’t go and make a fool of yourself with Stephanie.”
“I have not the least intention of doing anything of the sort.”
“Well, she has! Mark my words, Everard, I know that woman. She is clever and brilliant and anything else you like, but for some reason or other she has set her mind upon you. She looks at dear little Rosamund as though she hadn’t a right to exist. Don’t look so sorry for yourself. You must have encouraged her.”
Dominey was silent. Fortunately, the exigencies of the next few minutes demanded it. His cousin waited patiently until there came a pause in the shooting.
“Now let me hear what you have to say for yourself, sir? So far as I can see, you’ve been quite sweet to your wife, and she adores you. If you want to have an affair with the Princess, don’t begin it here. You’ll have your wife ill again if you make her jealous.”
“My dear Caroline, there will be no affair between Stephanie and me. Of that you may rest assured.”
“You mean to say that this is altogether on her side, then?” Caroline persisted.
“You exaggerate her demeanour,” he replied, “but even if what you suggest were true—”
“Oh, I don’t want a lot of protestations!” she interrupted. “I am not saying that you encourage her much, because I don’t believe you do. All I want to point out is that, having really brought your wife back almost to health, you must be extraordinarily and wonderfully careful. If you want to talk nonsense with Stephanie, do it in Belgrave Square.”
Dominey was watching the gyrations of a falling pheasant. His left hand was stretched out towards the cartridge bag which Caroline was holding. He clasped her fingers for a moment before he helped himself.
“You are rather a dear,” he said. “I would not do anything to hurt Rosamund for the world.”
“If you can’t get rid of your old tricks altogether and must flirt,” she remarked, “well, I’m always somewhere about. Rosamund wouldn’t mind me, because there are a few grey hairs in my sandy ones.—And here comes your man across the park—looks as though he had a message for you. So long as nothing has happened to your cook, I feel that I could face ill tidings with composure.”
Dominey found himself watching with fixed eyes the approach of his rather sad-faced manservant through the snow. Parkins was not dressed for such an enterprise, nor did he seem in any way to relish it. His was the stern march of duty, and, curiously enough, Dominey felt from the moment he caught sight of him that he was in some respects a messenger of Fate. Yet the message which he delivered, when at last he reached his master’s side, was in no way alarming.
“A person of the name of Miller has arrived here, sir,” he announced, “from Norwich. He is, I understand, a foreigner of some sort, who has recently landed in this country. I found it a little difficult to understand him, but her Highness’s maid conversed with him in German, and I understand that he either is or brings you a message from a certain Doctor Schmidt, with whom you were acquainted in Africa.”
The warning whistle blew at that moment, and Dominey swung round and stood at attention. His behaviour was perfectly normal. He let a hen pheasant pass over his head, and brought down a cock from very nearly the limit distance. He reloaded before he turned to Parkins.
“Is this person in a hurry?” he said.
“By no means, sir,” the man replied. “I told him that you would not be back until three or four o’clock, and he is quite content to wait.”
Dominey nodded.
“Look after him yourself then, Parkins,” he directed. “We shall not be shooting late to-day. Very likely I will send Mr. Seaman back to talk to him.”
