“I can, Billy.  You will be Prime Minister,” flashed out Miss Greeby, at which there was a general laugh.  Then Garvington threw a bombshell.

“You’d better get your fortunes told to-day, if you want to,” he grunted, wiping his mustache; “for to-morrow I’m going to have these rotters moved off my land straight away.  They’re thieves and liars.”

“So are many other people,” snapped Miss Greeby, who had lost heavily at bridge on the previous night and spoke feelingly.

Her host paid no attention to her.  “There’s been a lot of burglaries in this neighborhood of late.  I daresay these gypsies are mixed up in them.”

“Burglaries!” cried Mrs. Belgrove, and turned pale under her rouge, as she remembered that she had her diamonds with her.

“Oh, it’s all right!  Don’t worry,” said Garvington, pushing back his chair.  “They won’t try on any games in this house while I’m here.  If any one tries to get in I’ll shoot the beast.”

“Is that allowed by law?” asked an army officer with a shrug.

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” retorted Garvington.  “An Englishman’s house is his castle, you know, and he can jolly well shoot any one who tries to get into it.  Besides, I shouldn’t mind potting a burglar.  Great sport.”

“You’d ask his intentions first, I presume,” said Lady Garvington tartly.

“Not me.  Any one getting into the house after dark doesn’t need his intentions to be asked.  I’d shoot.”

“What about Romeo?” asked a poetic-looking young man.  “He got into Juliet’s house, but did not come as a burglar.”

“He came as a guest, I believe,” said a quiet, silvery voice at the end of the table, and every one turned to look at Lady Agnes Pine, who had spoken.

She was Garvington’s sister, and the wife of Sir Hubert Pine, the millionaire, who was absent from the house party on this occasion.  As a rule, she spoke little, and constantly wore a sad expression on her pale and beautiful face.  And Agnes Pine really was beautiful, being one of those tall, slim willowy-looking women who always look well and act charmingly.  And, indeed, her undeniable charm of manner probably had more to do with her reputation as a handsome woman than her actual physical grace.  With her dark hair and dark eyes, her Greek features and ivory skin faintly tinted with a tea-rose hue, she looked very lovely and very sad.  Why she should be, was a puzzle to many women, as being the wife of a superlatively rich man, she had all the joys that money could bring her.  Still it was hinted on good authority—­but no one ever heard the name of the authority—­that Garvington being poor had forced her into marrying Sir Hubert, for whom she did not care in the least.  People said that her cousin Noel Lambert was the husband of her choice, but that she had sacrificed herself, or rather had been compelled to do so, in order that Garvington might be set on his legs.  But Lady