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Aren't you playing any more to-day?"
"I think not," was her reply. "We've been out there the whole afternoon,
and I'm rather tired. But they're still on the lawn. You can surely get
a game with someone."
"If you don't play, I shan't. I returned to keep the promise I made
this morning," he laughed, standing before the big open fireplace,
holding his tennis racquet behind his back.
I examined his countenance, and was more than ever convinced that he was
actually the man who gave me the name of Hornby and the false address in
Somerset. The pair seemed to be on familiar terms, and I wondered
whether they were engaged. In any case, the man seemed quite at home
there.
As he chatted with the daughter of the house, he cast a quick, covert
glance at me, and then darted a meaning look at her--a look of renewed
confidence, as though he felt that he had successfully averted any
suspicions I might have held.
We talked of the prospects of the grouse and the salmon, and from his
remarks he seemed to be as keen at sport as he had once made out himself
to be at yachting.


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