‘Any others?’ she said.

‘You will consider that one enough for the day,’ was his answer.

Patrick descended the terrace and strolled by the waterside, grieved at their having bad news, and vexed with himself for being a stranger, unable to console them.

Half an hour later they were all three riding to the market-town, where Mr. Adister paid a fruitless call on his lawyer.

‘And never is at home! never was known to be at home when wanted!’ he said, springing back to the saddle.

Caroline murmured some soothing words.  They had a perverse effect.

’His partner! yes, his partner is at home, but I do not communicate upon personal business with his partner; and by and by there will be, I suppose, a third partner.  I might as well deposit my family history in the hands of a club.  His partner is always visible.  It is my belief that Camminy has taken a partner that he may act the independent gentleman at his leisure.  I, meantime, must continue to be the mark for these letters.  I shall expect soon to hear myself abused as the positive cause of the loss of a Crown!’

‘Mr. Camminy will probably appear at the dinner hour,’ said Caroline.

‘Claret attracts him:  I wish I could say as much of duty,’ rejoined her uncle.

Patrick managed to restrain a bubbling remark on the respective charms of claret and duty, tempting though the occasion was for him to throw in a conversational word or two.

He was rewarded for listening devoutly.

Mr. Adister burst out again:  ’And why not come over here to settle this transaction herself?—­provided that I am spared the presence of her Schinderhannes!  She could very well come.  I have now received three letters bearing on this matter within as many months.  Down to the sale of her hereditary jewels!  I profess no astonishment.  The jewels may well go too, if Crydney and Welvas are to go.  Disrooted body and soul!—­for a moonshine title!—­a gaming-table foreign knave!—­Known for a knave!—­A young gentlewoman?—­a wild Welsh . . . !’

Caroline put her horse to a canter, and the exclamations ended, leaving Patrick to shuffle them together and read the riddle they presented, and toss them to the wind, that they might be blown back on him by the powers of air in an intelligible form.

CHAPTER IV

THE PRINCESS

Dinner, and a little piano-music and a song closed an evening that was not dull to Patrick in spite of prolonged silences.  The quiet course of things within the house appeared to him to have a listening ear for big events outside.  He dreaded a single step in the wrong direction, and therefore forbore to hang on any of his conjectures; for he might perchance be unjust to the blessedest heroine on the surface of the earth—­a truly awful thought!  Yet her name would no longer bear the speaking of it to himself.  It conjured up a smoky moon under confounding eclipse.