“How very strange!” said Howard innocently.  “Do you know, I have just had the pleasure of meeting a Miss Heron of Herondale—­”

Stafford sprang to his feet.

“Where?” he demanded hotly.

“At Lady Clansford’s ball, which I have just left.  May I ask why you are so interested in Miss Heron as to send me on such a mission?”

“I love her,” said Stafford briefly.  “I can not live without her—­I’ve tried, and I’ve failed.  I’ve loved her since—­oh, I can’t tell you!  I want to know what she is doing.  I want to know if she has forgotten me; if there is any hope for me!”

Howard looked at him compassionately, and whistled softly.

“My dear old man,” he said, with an air of reluctance, “you fly rather high!  The lady you speak of is the belle of the present season; she is the admired of all admirers; belted earls, to say nothing of noble dukes, are at her feet.  She was the star of the ball which I have just left.  If I may say so, I think you were very unwise to leave such a peerless pearl to be snapped up—­”

Stafford turned away from him and stifled a groan.

“I might have know it,” he said.  “The belle of the season!  Well, why not?  There is no one more beautiful, no one more sweet.  Who am I that she should remember me?  What am I—­”

“Rather a foolish young man, if you ask me,” said Howard.  “If I’d been in love with such a peerless creature, I shouldn’t have left her to go tramping after cattle in Australia.”

“What else could I do?” exclaimed Stafford, sternly.  “Have you forgotten that I was not set free, that when—­when death”—­his voice dropped—­“set me free, that it was no time to speak of love to another woman?  I was obliged to go; but I’ve came back—­too late, I suppose!  Don’t say any more; let us talk of something else:  you are looking well.  Howard.”

“Yes, it’s no use crying over spilt milk,” said Howard, with a sigh.  “Oh, I’m all right.  Look here, I’ll put you up to-night; we’re got a spare room.  Now, mix yourself another drink and light up another cigar—­not bad, are they—­and tell me all you’ve been doing.”

* * * * *

At a quarter to four the following day Howard put in his appearance at Lady Fitzharford’s house in Eaton Square.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’ve come,” she said:  everybody was pleased to see Howard; “you are just the man I want.  That sweet creature, Miss Heron, is coming here directly to try over some songs with me—­I’m going to sing at that Bazaar, you know—­and as you know something of music—­is there anything you don’t know, Mr. Howard?—­you can give us your opinion.”

“With the greatest pleasure, my dear lady,” responded Howard; “but on two conditions:  one, that you don’t take my opinion; the other, that you leave me alone with Miss Heron, directly she comes, for a quarter of an hour.”

Lady Fitzharford stared at him.