Wynne measured her with his eyes for a moment.  Then he looked quickly away.

“Well, Merriton, you’ve got your own back for little Rosie Deverill, haven’t you?  Remember how heart-broken you were at sixteen, when she turned her rather wayward affections to me?  Now—­the tables have turned.  Well, I wish you luck.  Think I’ll be getting along.  I’ve a good deal of work to do this evening, and I’ll be shipping for Cairo, I hope, next week.  That’s what I came to see you about ’Toinette, but I’m afraid I am a little—­late.”

“Cairo, Mr. Wynne?” Brellier had entered the room and his voice held a note of surprise.  “We shall miss you—­”

“Oh, you’ll get on all right without me, my friend,” returned Wynne with a grim smile, and a look that included all three of them in its mock amusement.  “I’m not quite so much wanted as I thought.  Well, Nigel, I suppose you’ll be giving a dinner, the proper ‘stag’ party, before you become a Benedict.  Sorry I can’t be here to join in the revels.”

He put out his hand, Nigel took it, and wrung it with a heartiness and friendship that he had never before felt; but after all he had conquered!  It was he Antoinette was going to marry.  His heart was brimming over with pity for the man.

“Look here,” he said.  “Come and dine with me at the Towers before you go, Wynne, old man.  We’ll have a real bachelor party as you say.  All the other chaps and you, just to give you a sort of send off.  What about Tuesday?  I won’t have you say no.”

For a moment a look of friendship came into Wynne’s eyes.  He gazed into Merriton’s, and then returned the hand-grasp frankly.  It was almost as though he understood this mute apology of Nigel’s, and took it at its proper value.

“Thanks, old boy.  Very decent of you, I’m sure.  Yes, I’d like to have a peep at the other chaps before I sail.  Just for old times’ sake.  I’ve nothing special doing Tuesday that I can’t put off.  And so—­I’ll come.  So long.”

“Good-bye,” said Merriton, rather relieved at Wynne’s attitude—­and yet, in spite of himself, distrusting it.

“Good-bye, ’Toinette....  It’s really good-bye this time.  And I wish you all the happiness you deserve.”

“Thank you.”

He looked into her eyes a moment, and then with a sudden sigh turned quickly away and went out of the room.  Brellier strode after him and wrung his hand while the two that were left clung to each other in silence.  It was as though an unseen, sinister presence had suddenly gone from the room.  The tension was lifted, and they could breathe naturally again.

Standing together they heard the front door slam.

CHAPTER V

THE SPECTRE AT THE FEAST

Merriton, clad in his evening clothes and looking exceedingly handsome, stood by the smoking room door, with Tony West, short and thickset, wearing a suit that fitted badly and a collar which looked sizes too large for him (Merriton had long given up hope of making him visit a decent tailor) and waited for the sound of motor wheels which would announce the arrival of further guests.