The consequences of that night and day of peril involved his whole future.  Merefleet recognised this and resolved to act forthwith, in defiance of Seton or any other obstacle.  He did not realise till later that there was opposed to him a strength which even his will was powerless to overcome.  He did not even take the possibility of this into consideration.

He was very sure of himself and confident of success when he descended late on the following morning to a solitary breakfast—­sure of himself, sure of the smile of that fickle goddess Fortune—­sure, thrice sure, of the woman he loved.

And he watched for her coming with a rapture that deprived him of his appetite.

But Mab did not come.

Instead, Herbert Seton presently strolled into the room, greeted him, and paused by his table.

“Be good enough to join me on the terrace presently, will you?” he said abruptly.

And Merefleet nodded with a chill sense of foreboding.  But his resolution was unalterable.  This young man should not, he was determined, by any means cheat him now of his heart’s desire.  Matters had gone too far for that.  He followed Seton almost at once and found him in a quiet corner, smoking.  Merefleet sat down beside him and also began to smoke.  There was a touch of hostility about Seton that he was determined to ignore.

“Well,” said Seton at length, with characteristic bluntness, “so you have done it in spite of my warning the other night.”

Merefleet looked at him.  Was he expected to render an account of his doings to this man who was at least ten years his junior, he wondered, with faint amusement?

Seton went on with strong indignation.

“I told you in the first place not to be too intimate with her.  I told you again two nights ago that she was not free to accept any man’s attentions.  But you went on.  And you have made her miserable simply for the gratification of your own unreasonable fancy.  Do you call that manly behaviour, I wonder?”

Merefleet sat in absolute silence for several seconds.  Finally he wheeled round in his chair and faced Seton.

“If I were you,” he said quietly, “I should postpone this interview for half-an-hour.  I think you may possibly regret it if you don’t.”

Seton tossed away a half-smoked cigarette and rose.

“In half-an-hour,” he said, “I shall have left this place, and my cousin with me.  I asked to speak to you because I detest all underhand dealings.  You apparently have not the same scruples.”

Merefleet also rose.

“You will apologise for that,” he said, in a tone of conviction.  “I don’t question your motives, but to fetch me out here and then insult me was not a wise proceeding on your part.”

Seton’s hand clenched involuntarily.  But he had put himself in the wrong, and he knew it.

“Very well,” he said at length, with a shrug.  “I apologise for the expression.  But my opinion of you remains unaltered.”