them. You will find, in your coach-houses, a variety of vehicles; but, of course, I do not for a moment pretend that you will find there every kind of conveyance you require. Indeed, the idea has rather been that you should fill the inevitable vacancies in accordance with the dictates of your own taste."

"Whose idea is the flour and the silk stockings?"

She was looking up at the coachman and footman on the box.

"The--eh?--oh, I perceive; you allude to the men's liveries. The liveries, Miss Arnott, were chosen by your late uncle; I think you will admit that they are very handsome ones. It has been felt that, in deference to him, they should be continued, until you thought proper to rule otherwise."

"Then I'm afraid that they won't be continued much longer. In such matters my uncle's tastes were--I hope it isn't treason to say so--perhaps a trifle florid. Mine are all the other way. I don't like floured heads, silk stockings, or crimson velvet breeches; I like everything about me to be plain to the verge of severity. My father's ideal millionaire was mine; shall I tell you what that was?"

"If you will be so good."

"He held that a man with five thousand a year, if he were really a gentleman, would do his best not to allow it to be obvious to the man who only had five hundred that he had more than he had."

"There is something to be said for that point of view; on the other hand, there is a great deal to be said for the other side."

"No doubt. There is always a great deal to be said for the other side. I am only hinting at the one towards which I personally incline." Presently they were passing along an avenue of trees. "Where are we now?"

"We are on your property--this is the drive to the house."

"There seems to be a good deal of it."

"It is rather more than three miles long; there are lodge gates at either end; the house stands almost in the centre."

"It seems rather pretty."

"Pretty! Exham Park is one of the finest seats in the country. That is why your uncle purchased it."

After a while they came in sight of the house.

"Is that the house? It looks more like a palace. Fancy my living all alone in a place like that! Now I understand why a companion was an absolute necessity. It strikes me, Mrs Plummer, that you will want a companion as much as I shall. What shall we two lone, lorn women do in that magnificent abode?"

As they stepped in front of the splendid portico there came down the steps a man who held his hat in his hand, with whom Mr Stacey at once went through the ceremony of introduction.

"Miss Arnott, this is Mr Arthur Cavanagh, your steward."

She found herself confronted by a person who was apparently not much more than thirty years of age; erect, well-built, with short, curly hair, inclined to be ruddy, a huge moustache, and a pair of the merriest blue eyes she had ever seen. When they were in the house, and Mr Stacey was again alone with the two ladies, he observed, with something which approximated to an air of mystery,--

"You must understand, Miss Arnott, that, as regards Mr Cavanagh, we--my partners and myself--have been in a delicate position. He was your uncle's particular protégé. I have reason to know that he came to England at his express request. We have hardly seen our way--acting merely on our own initiative--to displace him."

"Displace him? Why should he be displaced? Isn't he a good steward?"

"As regards that, good stewards are not difficult to find. Under the circumstances, the drawbacks in his case are, I may almost say, notorious. He is young, even absurdly young; he is not ill-looking, and he is unmarried."

Miss Arnott smiled, as if Mr Stacey had been guilty of perpetrating a joke.

"It's not his fault that he is young; it's not my fault that I am young. It's nice not to be ill-looking, and-- I rather fancy--it's nice to be unmarried." She said to Mrs Plummer as, a little later, they were going upstairs together, side by side, "What odd things Mr Stacey does say. Fancy regarding them as drawbacks being young, good-looking and unmarried. What can he be thinking of?"

"I must refer you to him. It is one of the many questions to which I am unable to supply an answer of my own."

When she was in her own room, two faces persisted in getting in front of Miss Arnott's eyes. One was the face of Mr Arthur Cavanagh, the other was that of the man who was serving a term of twelve months' hard labour, and which was always getting, as it were, between her and the daylight.

CHAPTER IV

THE EARL OF PECKHAM'S PROPOSAL

Miss Arnott soon realised what Mrs Stacey had meant by insisting on the impossibility of her living a solitary life. So soon as she arrived upon the scene, visitors began to appear at Exham Park in a constant stream. The day after she came calls were made by two detachments of the clergy, and by the representatives of three medical men. But, as Mrs Plummer somewhat unkindly put it, these might be regarded as professional calls; or, in other words, requests for custom.

"Since you are the patron of these livings, their present holders were bound to haste and make obeisance--though it would seem that, in that respect, one of them is still a defaulter. The way in which those two doctors and their wives, who happened to come together, glowered at each other was beautiful. One quite expected to see them lapse into mutual charges of unprofessional conduct. Which of the three do you propose to favour?"

"Mr Cavanagh says that uncle used to patronise all three. He had one for the servants on the estate one for the indoor servants, and one for himself."

"And which of the three was it who killed him?"

"There came a time when all three were called together to consult upon his case. That finished uncle at once. He died within four-and-twenty hours. So Mr Cavanagh says."

"I suppose Mr Cavanagh is able to supply you with little interesting details on all sorts of recondite subjects?"

"Oh yes; he is like a walking encyclopedia of information on all matters connected with the estate. Whenever I want to know anything I simply go to him; he always knows. It is most convenient."

"And I presume that he is always willing to tell you what you want to know."

"Most willing. I never met a more obliging person. And so good-humoured. Have you noticed his smile?"

"I can't say that I have paid particular attention to his smile."

"It's wonderful; it lights up all his face and makes him positively handsome. I think he's a most delightful person, and so clever. I'm sure he's immensely popular with everyone; not at all like the hard-as-nails stewards one reads about. I can't imagine what Mr Stacey meant by almost expressing a regret that he had not displaced him, can you?"

"Some people sometimes say such extraordinary things that it's no use trying to imagine what they mean."

The answer was a trifle vague; but it seemed to satisfy Miss Arnott. Neither of the ladies looked to see if the other was smiling.

Mrs Stacey's sibylline utterance was prophetic; in a fortnight the whole county had called--that is, so much of it as was within anything like calling