“You were waiting for me?” she asked.

“I saw your carriage.”

“How delightful of you.  Let me take you back to luncheon.”

He shook his head.

“I am afraid,” he said, “that I should be poor company.  May I drive home with you, at any rate, when you have finished?”

“Of course you may, and for luncheon we shall be quite alone, unless somebody drops in.”

He took his seat beside her in the carriage.  “Helene,” he said, “I am interested in Mr. Brott.  No, don’t look at me like that.  You need have no fear.  My interest is in him as a man, and not as a politician.  The other days are over and done with now.  I am on the defensive and hard pressed.”

Her face was bright with sympathy.  She forgot everything except her old admiration for him.  In the clashing of their wills the victory had remained with her.  And as for those things which he had done, the cause at least had been a great one.  Her happiness had come to her through him.  She bore him no grudge for that fierce opposition which, after all, had been fruitless.

“I believe you, uncle,” she said affectionately.  “If I can help you in any way I will.”

“This Mr. Brott!  He goes very little into society, I believe.”

“Scarcely ever,” she answered.  “He came to us because my husband is one of the few Radical peers.”

“You have not heard of any recent change in him—­in this respect?”

“Well, I did hear Wolfendon chaffing him the other day about somebody,” she said.  “Oh, I know.  He has been going often to the Duchess of Dorset’s.  He is such an ultra Radical, you know, and the Dorsets are fierce Tories.  Wolfendon says it is a most unwise thing for a good Radical who wants to retain the confidence of the people to be seen about with a Duchess.”

“The Duchess of Dorset,” Mr. Sabin remarked, “must be, well—­a middle-aged woman.”

Helene laughed.

“She is sixty if she is a day.  But I daresay she herself is not the attraction.  There is a very beautiful woman staying with her —­the Countess Radantz.  A Hungarian, I believe.”

Mr. Sabin sat quite still.  His face was turned away from Helene.  She herself was smiling out of the window at some acquaintances.

“I wonder if there is anything more that I can tell you?” she asked presently.

He turned towards her with a faint smile.

“You have told me,” he said, “all that I want to know.”

She was struck by the change in his face, the quietness of his tone was ominous.

“Am I meant to understand?” she said dubiously “because I don’t in the least.  It seems to me that have told you nothing.  I cannot imagine what Mr. Brott and you have in common.”

“If your invitation to lunch still holds good,” he said, “may I accept it?  Afterwards, if you can spare me a few minutes I will make things quite clear to you.”