“Shall we say a tenner?” suggested Courtenay, writing the bet down in his notebook.

“Certainly.”

“Good!  I take the other side.  I know something of Roxmouth,—­he’s seldom baffled.  Miss Vancourt will be the Duchess before next year!”

“Not a bit of it!  Next year Miss Vancourt will still be Miss Vancourt!” said Charlemont. emphatically—­“She’s a woman of character, and if she doesn’t intend to marry Roxmouth, nothing will make her.  She’s got a mind of her own,—­most women’s minds are the minds of their favourite men.”

“He-he-te-he—­te-he—­he!” giggled the young man who had before spoken,—­“I know a girl—–­”

“Shut up, old chappie!  You ’know a bank whereon the wild thyme grows’—­that’s what you know!” said Charlemont.  “Come and have a look at the motor.”

Whereupon they rose from the table and dispersed.

From that day, however, a certain additional interest was given to the house-party entertainment at Abbot’s Manor.  Mrs. Bludlip Courtenay and Lady Beaulyon fell so neatly into the web which Maryllia carefully prepared for them, that she soon found out what a watch they kept upon her, and knew, without further trouble, that she must from henceforth regard them as spies in her aunt and Lord Roxmouth’s service.  The men took no part in this detective business, but nevertheless were keenly inquisitive in their own line, more bets being given and taken freely on what was likely to be the upshot of affairs.  Meanwhile, Lord Roxmouth and Mr. Longford, sometimes accompanied by Sir Morton Pippitt, and sometimes without him, called often, but Maryllia was always out.  She had two watch-dogs besides her canine friend, Plato,—­and these were Cicely and Julian Adderley.  Cicely had pressed the ‘moon calf’ into her service, and had told him just as much as she thought proper concerning Roxmouth and his persecution of her friend and patroness.

“Go as often as you can to Badsworth Hall,”—­she commanded him—­“and find out all their movements there.  Then tell me,—­and whenever Roxmouth comes here to call, Maryllia will be out!  Be vigilant and faithful!”

And she had shaken her finger at him and rolled her dark eyes with such tragic intensity, that he had entered zealously into the spirit of the little social drama, and had become as it were special reporter of the Roxmouth policy to the opposing party.

But this was behind the scenes.  The visible action of the piece appeared just now to be entirely with Maryllia and her lordly wooer,—­she as heroine, he as hero,—­while the ‘supers,’ useful in their way as spies, messengers and general attendants, took their parts in the various scenes with considerable vivacity, wondering how much they might possibly get out of it for themselves.  If, while they were guests at Abbot’s Manor, an engagement between Lord Roxmouth and Maryllia Vancourt could be finally settled, they felt they could all