he warned. “Like all men of great brain, I am choleric when pressed. You give me to understand that you do not consider that I⁠—I, Tremaine of Barham!⁠—can take care of my daughter!”

“Not in the least, sir. I make no doubt you can. But when you permit her to engage on so dangerous a masquerade⁠—”

“Permit?” cried my lord. “You conceive that my children thought of this for themselves? Your partiality makes you blind. Mine was the brain that evolved this plot; mine was the inspiration. I do not permit: I ordain.”

Robin ranged himself on the side of his father. “We spin our own web, sir. Give us credit for some little resource.”

Fanshawe turned to look at him. “I suppose I am far from appreciating any of you,” he said humorously. “But did you never think what might be the issue if Prudence were discovered?”

“I could not imagine such a possibility, sir, to be frank with you. But then it was not our intention to cut such conspicuous figures in town. I will pay you the compliment to say that I think no other man would have discovered the imposture. I should like to know what made you suspect.”

“I should find it hard to tell you, Robin. Some little things and the affection for her I discovered in myself. I wondered when I saw her tip wine down her arm at my card-party, I confess.”

My lord frowned. “Do you tell me my daughter was clumsy?”

“By no means, sir. But I was watching her closer than she knew.”

My lord still seemed dissatisfied. After a moment Sir Anthony went on. “And I want now, sir, to spirit her off. She tells me she must needs wait upon your claim.”

“Certainly,” said my lord. “She shows a proper feeling. She has faith in me, enfin.”

“That’s as may be, sir, but I rather see her in safety now.”

“I applaud her decision,” said my lord. “She will await my re-instalment; and you may then pay your addresses to her with all propriety. As for Robin, he is my son, and I want no pardons for him. I arrange all in a manner sublime beyond your comprehension. You may place your trust in me.”

A deep, calm voice spoke from the doorway. “In fact, sir, we are all of us wandering in a maze, and there is only one of our number knows the path out of it.”

Sir Anthony turned quickly; my lord bowed ineffably in acknowledgment of a compliment he had no hesitation in taking to himself. Prudence stood on the threshold, neat in brown velvet, with brown hair unpowdered. She met Sir Anthony’s gaze, and there was a little smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “I’ve this much faith in my father, sir, that I believe we may ruin all by a step taken without his knowledge.”

“My Prue!” His lordship stretched a hand towards her. “I said you had intuition.”

“It seems to me,” said Sir Anthony whimsically, “that I, too, am being drawn into this maze.”

“Inevitably,” nodded his lordship. “You, too, are in my toils.”

“I’m a respectable creature, sir, I believe.”

“If I did not think it, sir, I should deny you the right to aspire to my daughter’s hand.”

Sir Anthony bowed, but Prudence was not pleased. “Let’s have done with that, sir. Sir Anthony honours me beyond my deserts. I don’t desire to see him in the maze.” She came forward and put her hand on Fanshawe’s sleeve. She looked up at him seriously. “Stand back from us, sir. I ask it of you.”

He covered her hand with one of his. “Faith, you ask more than I can perform. I don’t meddle, but I reserve to myself the right to watch over you.”

My lord smiled indulgently, and helped himself to a pinch of snuff. Prudence said earnestly: “Believe me, we were born to this game of hazardous chances. But you are not. Stand back from us.”

“My child, you need have no qualms,” my lord assured her. “My plans are not overset even by Sir Anthony’s entering into them.”

“That was not what was in my mind, sir,” said Prudence dryly.

Sir Anthony smiled down at her. “My dear, I know, but I may take care of myself. Don’t worry over my safety. I am to wait: you’ll none of my help. Well, I said that it should be so, and I abide by my word. But things must be the same between us, if only to avert suspicion. You will visit me as frequently as ever. My Lord Barham can trust me.”

My lord waved his hand. “Implicitly, my dear Fanshawe! Are you not to be a second son to me? I can even applaud your forethought. Certainly my daughter visits you the same as ever.”

Observing a troubled crease between Prudence’s brows, Sir Anthony said softly: “And Prudence herself has naught to fear from me, neither exposure nor importunities. I remain her friend Tony.”

“Admirable,” nodded my lord. “You are all delicacy, sir.”

Prudence looked up into the square face, and smiled mistily. “Indeed, Tony, I think so,” she said.

XX

Ingenuity of My Lord Barham

Robin had, perforce, to wish his sister joy of her conquest. He perceived her to be troubled, an unusual state of mind with her, and abandoned the teasing note. “To be honest, my dear, I was wrong in underrating the mountain. What happened last night?”

She told him, choosing her words carefully, he thought. “He caught my wrist,” she ended, “and bore it downwards. I knew then, of course. There was no more to say. I know when it is time to have done with lies.” She pushed back the ruffles from her hand, and inspected the wrist closely.

“What, do the marks still linger?” Robin was inclined to be indignant.

“No. I thought they did,” she said inconsequently. “He asked my name; I told him. He guessed that I was the old gentleman’s child. The rest is nothing.”

Robin let that pass. He fell to playing with his rings. “I’m of

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