It was not only that Slingsby was permitted to penetrate into the housekeeper’s room and tell his story to his social superiors there, though that was an absolutely unprecedented occurrence; what was really extraordinary was that mere menials discussed the affair with the personal ladies and gentlemen of the castle guests, and were allowed to do so uncrushed.  James, the footman—­that pushing individual—­actually shoved his way into the room, and was heard by witnesses to remark to no less a person than Mr. Beach that it was a bit thick.

And it is on record that his fellow footman, Alfred, meeting the groom of the chambers in the passage outside, positively prodded him in the lower ribs, winked, and said:  “What a day we’re having!” One has to go back to the worst excesses of the French Revolution to parallel these outrages.  It was held by Mr. Beach and Mrs. Twemlow afterward that the social fabric of the castle never fully recovered from this upheaval.  It may be they took an extreme view of the matter, but it cannot be denied that it wrought changes.  The rise of Slingsby is a case in point.  Until this affair took place the chauffeur’s standing had never been satisfactorily settled.  Mr. Beach and Mrs. Twemlow led the party which considered that he was merely a species of coachman; but there was a smaller group which, dazzled by Slingsby’s personality, openly declared it was not right that he should take his meals in the servants’ hall with such admitted plebeians as the odd man and the steward’s-room footman.

The Aline-George elopement settled the point once and for all.  Slingsby had carried George’s bag to the train.  Slingsby had been standing a few yards from the spot where Aline began her dash for the carriage door.  Slingsby was able to exhibit the actual half sovereign with which George had tipped him only five minutes before the great event.  To send such a public man back to the servants’ hall was impossible.  By unspoken consent the chauffeur dined that night in the steward’s room, from which he was never dislodged.

Mr. Judson alone stood apart from the throng that clustered about the chauffeur.  He was suffering the bitterness of the supplanted.  A brief while before and he had been the central figure, with his story of the letter he had found in the Honorable Freddie’s coat pocket.  Now the importance of his story had been engulfed in that of this later and greater sensation, Mr. Judson was learning, for the first time, on what unstable foundations popularity stands.

Joan was nowhere to be seen.  In none of the spots where she might have been expected to be at such a time was she to be found.  Ashe had almost given up the search when, going to the back door and looking out as a last chance, he perceived her walking slowly on the gravel drive.

She greeted Ashe with a smile, but something was plainly troubling her.  She did not speak for a moment and they walked side by side.