“There’s a fellow here lends me anything in his stable when I am in New York,” he answered, half out of the room.  “I’ll go myself,” he called back from the landing, and shut the door behind him.  “Upon my word,” he said to himself as he lighted a cigarette in the cab, and drove away to his friend’s stable, “she is the most beautiful thing I ever saw.  I almost let the cat out of the bag, just to please her.  I don’t wonder Claudius is crazy about her.  I will talk about the West when we are riding, and avoid the subject.”  With which sage resolution his Grace seemed well satisfied.  When he returned, he found Margaret clad in a marvellous habit, that reminded him of home.

“The horses will be at the Park by the time we have driven there,” he said.  “We will drive up.”  He made no toilet himself, for being English and to the saddle born, he cared not a jot how he looked on horseback.  In half an hour they were mounted, and walking their horses down the broad bend of the road where it enters the Central Park.  Margaret asked about Lady Victoria, and the Duke, to make sure of not getting off the track, immediately began talking about the journey they had just made.  But Margaret was not listening.

“Do you know?” she said, “it is very pleasant to feel I am not poor any longer.  I suppose it is a very low sentiment.”

“Of course,” said the Duke.  “Beastly thing to have no money.”

“Do you know—­” she began again, but stopped.

“Well,” said the Duke, following her first train of thought, “it always seems to me that I have no money myself.  I don’t suppose I am exactly poor, though.”

“No,” laughed Margaret, “I was not thinking of that.”

“What is it?” he asked.

“I think I will confide in you a little, for you have always been such a good friend to me.  What do you know of Mr. Barker?”

“I am sure I don’t know,” said the Englishman, taken off his guard by the question.  “I have known him some time—­in this sort of way,” he added vaguely.

“I believe,” said the Countess bluntly, “that it was Mr. Barker who made all this trouble for Dr. Claudius.”

“I believe you are right,” answered the Duke suddenly turning in his saddle and facing her.  “I wonder how he could be such a brute?”

Margaret was silent.  She was astonished at the readiness with which her companion assented to her proposition.  He must have known it all along, she thought.

“What makes you think so?” he asked presently.

“What are your reasons for believing it?” she asked, with a smile.

“Really,” he began; then shortly, “I believe I don’t like his eyes.”

“Last night,” said Margaret, “I was talking with him at a party.  I chanced to speak of the Doctor’s coming back, and Mr. Barker laughed and sneered, and said it was ridiculous.”

The Duke moved angrily in his saddle, making the horse he rode shake his head and plunge a little.