“But—­your wife?”

“She is there, I believe,” he said.  “I cannot help it.  I have been an exile from my home long enough.”

“Don’t go,” she begged suddenly.  “Why not be brave and have her removed.  I know how tender-hearted you are, but you have your future and your career to consider.  For her sake, too, you ought not to give her the opportunity—­”

Dominey could never make up his mind whether the interruption which came at that moment was welcome or otherwise.  Caroline suddenly broke off in her speech and glanced warningly towards the larger room.  A tall, grey-haired man, dressed in old-fashioned clothes and wearing a pince-nez, had lifted the curtains.  He addressed the Duchess in a thin, reedy voice.

“My dear Caroline,” he began,—­“ah, you must forgive me.  I did not know that you were engaged.  We will not stay, but I should like to present to you a young friend of mine who is going to help me at the meeting this evening.”

“Do bring him in,” his wife replied, her voice once more attuned to its natural drawl.  “And I have a surprise for you too, Henry—­a very great surprise, I think you will find it!”

Dominey rose to his feet—­a tall, commanding figure—­and stood waiting the approach of the newcomer.  The Duke advanced, looking at him enquiringly.  A young man, very obviously a soldier in mufti, was hovering in the background.

“I must plead guilty to the surprise,” the Duke confessed courteously.  “There is something exceedingly familiar about your face, sir, but I cannot remember having had the privilege of meeting you.”

“You see,” Caroline observed, “I am not the only one, Everard, who did not accept you upon a glance.  This is Everard Dominey, Henry, returned from foreign exile and regenerated in every sense of the word.”

“How do you do?” Dominey said, holding out his hand.  “I seem to be rather a surprise to every one, but I hope you haven’t quite forgotten me.”

“God bless my soul!” the Duke exclaimed.  “You don’t mean to say that you’re really Everard Dominey?”

“I am he, beyond a doubt,” was the calm assurance.

“Most amazing!” the Duke declared, as he shook hands.  “Most amazing!  I never saw such a change in my life.  Yes, yes, I see—­same complexion, of course—­nose and eyes—­yes, yes!  But you seem taller, and you carry yourself like a soldier.  Dear, dear me!  Africa has done wonderfully by you.  Delighted, my dear Everard!  Delighted!”

“You’ll be more delighted still when you hear the rest of the news,” his wife remarked drily.  “In the meantime, do present your friend.”

“Precisely so,” the Duke acquiesced, turning to the young man in the background.  “Most sorry, my dear Captain Bartram.  The unexpected return of a connection of my wife must be my apology for this lapse of manners.  Let me present you to the Duchess.  Captain Bartram is just back from Germany, my dear, and is an enthusiastic supporter of our cause.—­Sir Everard Dominey.”