“No, Toby won’t mind,” Bunny said, with a sudden memory of her quick surrender flooding his soul.  “By Jove, Charlie!  You are a good sort to help me like this.  There’s no one else that can get things moving as you can.”

“Oh, you can count on me for that,” laughed Saltash.  “I never was a drifter.  Life is too short.  We’ll meet again to-morrow then.  Come and dine if you like, and tell me what you’ve arranged!  Good night!” He turned in his sudden fashion.  “Good luck to you!”

He was gone upon the words, vanishing into the larches almost noiselessly as he had come, and Bunny was left alone.

He stood motionless at the gate for some time longer gazing out over the quiet, night-wrapt down.  There was no elation in his attitude, only a deep thoughtfulness.  He had never understood Charlie though oddly enough he had always believed in him.  But to-night for the first time a curious doubt pierced his mind—­a doubt that recurred again and again, banishing all sense of exultation.  Why had Charlie returned like this?  Why was he so eager to meddle in this affair?  Why so recklessly generous?  He had a strong feeling that there was something behind it all, some motive unrealized, some spur goading him, of which he, Bunny, might not approve if he came to know of it.  He wished he could fathom the matter.  It was unlike Saltash to take so much trouble over anything.  He felt as if in some inexplicable fashion he were being tricked.

He put the thought from him, but he could not drive it away.  Just as he had felt himself baffled a little earlier by Toby, so now he felt the same inability to comprehend Saltash.  He seemed to be groping at a locked door, feeling and feeling for a key, that always eluded him.  And again he wished that Jake was within reach.

He turned homewards at length, dissatisfied and ill at ease, yet calling himself a fool for scenting a mystery that did not exist.

CHAPTER XI

SUSPICION

The Graydown Stables were always a model of well-ordered efficiency, and it had ever been Bunny’s pride to show them to his friends.  But he awaited General Melrose and his daughter on the following afternoon in a mood of some impatience.  He had arrived early in the hope of finding Toby at liberty, but his young fiancee was nowhere to be found.  She had gone out riding, Maud said, immediately after luncheon, and he realized with some disgust that he had forgotten to tell her on the previous day of his coming.

“She will be in to tea, dear,” Maud said, and he was obliged to content himself with the prospect of seeing her and acquainting her with Saltash’s energetic interest on their behalf after the visitors had gone.  He had never felt less in the mood for entertaining casual friends than he felt on that sunny afternoon in September as he lounged in the wide stable-yard and waited for them.  He had always