“How did you learn I was here?” she asked.

“From Melrose.”

Magda’s eyes darkened sombrely.

“Do you mean you bribed him?” she asked quickly.  “Oh, but surely not!”—­in dismayed tones.  “Melrose would go to the stake sooner than accept a bribe!”

Davilof’s mouth twisted in a rueful smile.

“I’m sure he would!  I tried him, but he wouldn’t look at a bribe of any sort.  So I had to resort to strategy.  It was one evening, when he was taking your letters to post, and I waited for him at the pillar-box.  I came up very quietly behind him and just nipped one of the letters, readdressed to you, out of his hand.  I read the address and then posted the letter for him.  It was very simple.”

He recounted the incident with a little swaggering air of bravado, boyishly delighted at the success of his small ruse.  Vexed as she was Magda could hardly refrain from smiling; the whole thing was so eminently un-English—­so exactly like Davilof!

“Well, now that you have seen me, will you please go away again?” she said coolly, reopening her book as though to end the conversation.

He regarded her with unqualified reproach.

“Won’t you even ask me to tea?” he said plaintively.

“Certainly not,” Magda was beginning.  But precisely as she spoke June Storran, looking more herself again after her short sleep, came towards them from the house.

Her face brightened as she caught sight of Davilof.  Even to June’s inexperienced eyes it was quite obvious that he admired the woman with whom he was talking.  The very way he looked at her told her that.  Presumably he was one of her London friends who had motored to Devonshire to see her.  No man—­within the limited scope of June’s knowledge of men—­did that deliciously absurd, extravagant kind of thing unless he was tremendously in love.  Nor would any nice woman let a man take such a journey on her behalf unless she reciprocated his feelings.  Of this June—­whose notions were old-fashioned—­felt assured.  So her spirits rose accordingly.  Since, if these two were on the verge of becoming engaged, the mere fact would clear away the indefinable shadows which seemed to have been menacing her own happiness from the time Miss Vallincourt had come to Stockleigh.

“Tea is just ready,” she announced, approaching.  “Will you come in?  And perhaps your friend will have tea with us?” she added shyly.

Davilof was presented and June repeated her invitation.  He shot a glance of triumph at Magda.

“I shall be delighted, madame,” he said, giving June one of his quaint little foreign bows.  “But—­the sun is shining so gloriously—­might we not have it out here?”

June looked round her doubtfully.  As is often the case with people born and bred in the country, it never occurred to the Storrans to have the family meals out-of-doors, and June felt considerable misgiving as to whether Dan would appreciate the innovation.