Lady Constance toyed idly with the grapes on her plate; then she looked up.

“Society has many brighter lights than I, Adrien,” she said quietly.  “But now, tell me about the race—­auntie is terribly anxious over it; are you not, dear?”

“Yes, my love,” returned Miss Penelope, who, in reality, hardly knew one horse from another.

“Oh, Adrien always wins,” put in Lord Standon.  “That’s a foregone conclusion.  Have you seen the ‘King’ lately, Lady Constance?”

“Oh, yes,” she replied, “He is exercised in the paddock every morning, and is in fine form.”

Adrien smiled.

“Poor ‘King Cole’; he’ll be worth his weight in gold if he wins to-morrow!  What about the other horses, Stan; are they down?”

“Yes,” replied Lord Standon; “my man saw some of them at the station; but no sign of the Yorkshire chestnut.”

“So much the better,” said Adrien; “perhaps his owner has thought discretion the better part of valour and withdrawn him.”

The conversation then flowed into other channels; Paxhorn provoking roars of merriment by his stories and epigrams.  Presently the ladies withdrew; Lady Constance to prepare for a ride with Adrien, which he had just suggested, and Miss Penelope to rest her “nerves.”

While waiting for his cousin to rejoin him Adrien crossed over to the window, which commanded a view of the Castle entrance, and stood gazing idly down.  Outside stood a smart motor, and from it was alighting the trim figure of Jasper Vermont.

“By Jove!” he exclaimed, “I had forgotten Jasper.”

He tapped at the window, and waved his hand in affectionate greeting to his friend, who looked up with his most amiable smile, as he brushed aside the servants who had hurried out to meet him.

There are people who are served well from sheer force of personality, and who, though neither generous nor unselfish themselves, yet contrive to abstract the very essence of these qualities from those around them; and of these Jasper Vermont was one.  His tips were few, though he was lavish in smiles and honeyed words; yet not one of the retinue of servants at Barminster Castle but would fly to attend to his wants, as they would those of Adrien or Lord Barminster himself.

A few minutes later he strolled into the room where the rest of the guests were seated.  As he did so Lord Barminster involuntarily drew himself up with a slight frown.  He had hoped that the “adventurer,” as he invariably termed him, would remain in town and not thrust his unwelcome presence upon the guests at the Castle.  But, in another minute, his natural courtesy reasserted itself; and, though it was patent to the least observant that the new arrival was not as welcome as he might have been, he answered Jasper’s amiable inquiry as to his health politely enough.

“Thank you, Mr. Vermont,” he said grimly, “I am quite well.  But you, I fear, are an invalid.”