to.  Without more ado he bore down upon the couple, and a moment later was tactfully advising the sleepy Mr. Rodney to take himself off to bed,—­advice which that gentleman gladly accepted.  And so it came about that Freddie sat face to face with the last resort, at the foot of the chaise-longue, gazing with serene adulation into the eyes of a woman who might have had a son as old as he—­if she had had one at all.  She had been a coquette in her salad days; there was no doubt of it.  She had encountered fervid gallants in all parts of the world and in all stations of life.  But it remained for the gallant Freddie Ulstervelt to bowl her over with surprise for the first time in her long and varied career.  At the end of half an hour she pulled herself together and tapped him on the shoulder with her fan, a quizzical smile on her lips.

“My dear Mr. Ulstervelt, are you trying to make love to me?  You nice Americans!  How gallant you can be.  I am quite old enough to be your mother.  Believe me, I thank you for the compliment.  I can’t tell you how I appreciate this delicate flattery.  You are very delicious.  But,” as she arose graciously, “I’d follow Mr. Rodney’s example if I were you.  I’d go to bed.”  Then, with a rare smile which could not have been more chilling, she left him standing there.

“By Jove,” he muttered, passing his hand across his eyes, as if bewildered, “what was I saying to her?  Good Lord, has it got to be a habit with me?  Was I making love to—­her?” He departed for the American bar.

Mrs. Rodney had but little sleep that night.  She went to bed in a state of worry and uncertainty, oppressed by the shadows which threatened eternal darkness to the fair name of the family—­however distantly removed.  Katherine’s secret had in reality been news to her; she had not paid enough attention to the Medcrofts to notice anything that they did, so long as they did not do it in conjunction with the Odell-Carneys.  The Odell-Carneys were her horizon,—­morning, noon, and night.  And now there was likelihood of that glorious horizon being obscured by a sickening scandal in the vulgar foreground.  Inspired by Katherine’s dreadful conclusions, the excellent lady set about to observe for herself.  During the entire evening she flitted about the hotel and grounds with all the snooping instincts of a Sherlock Holmes.  She lurked, if that is not putting it too theatrically.  From unexpected nooks she emerged to view the landscape o’er; by devious paths she led her doubts to the gates of absolute certainty, and then sat down to shudder to her heart’s content.  It was all true!  For four hours she had been trying to get to the spot where she could see with her own eyes, and at last she had come to it.  Of course, she had to admit to herself that she did not actually hear Mr. Medcroft tell Constance that he loved her, but it was enough for her that he sat with her in the semi-darkness for two unbroken hours, speaking in tones so low that they might just as well have been whispering so far as her taut ears were concerned.