Juliet made a slight gesture of remonstrance, but she spoke no word in contradiction.

A gleam of malice danced in Saltash’s eyes; it was like the turn of a rapier in a practised hand.  “Most wise and proper!” he said. “Juliette, I always admired your discretion.”

“You were always very kind, Charles Rex,” she made grave reply.

CHAPTER III

THE PRICE

They went back up the winding glen, and as they went Lord Saltash talked, superbly at his ease, of the doings of the past few weeks, “since you and that naughty Lady Jo dropped out,” as he expressed it to Juliet.  He had just recently been to Paris, had motored across France, had just returned by sea from Bordeaux in his yacht, the Night Moth.

“Landed to-day—­forgot this unspeakable flower-show—­had to put in to get her cleaned up for Cowes—­though it’s quite possible I shan’t go near Cowes when all’s said and done.  She’s quite seaworthy, warranted not to kick in a gale.  If anyone wanted her for a cruise—­she’s about the best thing going.”

They reached the shrubbery to be nearly deafened by the band.

“Come through the gardens!” said Saltash, with a shudder.  “We must get out of this somehow.”

“But my people!” objected Juliet.

“Oh, Mr. Green will go and find them, won’t you, Mr. Green?” Saltash turned a disarming smile upon him.

But Green looked straight back without a smile.  “Miss Moore is under my escort,” he observed.  “If she agrees, I think we had better go together.”

“And do you agree, Juliette?” enquired Saltash with interest.

Juliet met the mocking eyes with a smile that was certainly unintentional.  “They may be in the Castle,” she said.  “I know they meant to go.”

“Good!” he ejaculated.  “Then come to the Castle!  I will get you tea in my own secret den if such a thing is to be had—­tea or a cocktail, ma Juliette!”

“Will you lead the way?” said Juliet, and for a second—­only a second—­her hand pressed Dick’s arm with a quick, confidential pressure that was not without its appeal.  “We always follow Charles Rex!” she said.

Saltash chuckled.  Plainly the adventure amused him.

They entered the trim gardens, escaping thankfully from the wandering crowd of sight-seers.  Saltash led the way with a certain unconscious arrogance of bearing.  Somehow, his ugliness notwithstanding, he fitted his surroundings perfectly, save that the white yachting-suit ought to have been fashioned of satin, and a sword should have dangled at his side.  The old stone turrets that towered above the blazing parterres gleamed in the hot sunlight—­a mediaeval castle of romance.

“What a glorious old place!” said Juliet.

He turned to her.  “You have never seen it before?”

“Never,” she answered.

He made her a bow that was slightly foreign.  There was French blood in his veins.  “I give you welcome, maladi,” he said, “I and my poor castle are all yours to command.”