"Your t.i.tle. Or, rather mine," his friend declared sombrely, so dismally, indeed, that Gage said--

"Come, you are not going to repent? This is what I paid for. I told you so at the outset."

"Oh, yes," Peckover agreed. "It's fair enough," and with the image of Miss Buffkin's commanding beauty in his heart, he darkly resolved to try whether some of her smiles might not in future be for him.

Lady Ormstork was, as might have been confidently antic.i.p.ated, as good as her word. Almost every day she brought the fair Miss Buffkin to Staplewick, and on those that were missed the two friends contrived to find an excuse for calling at Cracknels, as the villa, built by a retired biscuit baker, was named. The game was not a very pleasant one for Peckover, seeing that in it the dowager was invariably his partner, nevertheless he continued to stick to it doggedly in the hope that his opportunity for making running with the captivating Ulrica would surely come.

Accordingly he disguised his feelings and the alertness with which he waited for an opening to a.s.sert his powers of fascination, making himself the while as agreeable and attentive to the astutely meandering peeress as the nature of her society talk permitted.

"Lord Quorn and dear Ulrica seem to have taken quite a fancy to one another," she remarked one afternoon, tactfully leading the way so as to give a wide berth to a plantation of rhododendrons in the midst of which she had reason to suspect the other pair of promenaders was lingering. "Don't you think so, Mr. Gage?"

"Looks like it," answered Peckover with a sardonic curl of the lip.

"You are his great friend. He would naturally confide in you,"

observed the lady with a pointed invitation to betray the said confidence.

"Oh, yes. He is very far gone," was the somewhat ill-humoured reply.

"No need for him to mention it, so long as I retain my eyesight."

"I am inclined to think," Lady Ormstork observed meditatively, "that the alliance would not be at all a bad thing."

"No?" Peckover, smarting under his confederate's good fortune, would not commit himself to an opinion.

"Don't you think so?" the dowager asked suavely.

"I don't blame old Quorn," Peckover replied, rather crudely. "As to whether Ul--Miss Buffkin might not do better is a matter of opinion."

"Possibly she might; or she might do worse," was the sage response.

"After all, Quorn is a charming fellow."

"Oh, yes," his friend a.s.sented in a tone so warped that it seemed to signify, "Oh, no."

"It's a fine old t.i.tle," said the lady reflectively.

"t.i.tle's all right," he agreed equivocally.

"Undeniable," Lady Ormstork maintained. "But of course, my dear Mr.

Gage, you understand that advantage would weigh nothing with me if Quorn were not genuinely fond of Ulrica."

"Just so," responded Peckover with a wink at a pa.s.sing swallow.

"Naturally," she pursued, "you will see my position is a somewhat delicate one. It is on that account, my dear Mr. Gage, that I make no scruple in asking you, a clever man of the world--if I may call you so----"

"Oh, don't mention it," he replied glibly.

"I'm asking you not to let me be in the dark as to your friend's real feelings and intentions. For if I were sure that Quorn had no idea of proposing I should consider it my duty to take Ulrica away from here at once."

"He has not expressed any such intention to me," Peckover replied, brightening a little.

"But surely you think he will, he must?" demanded the lady anxiously.

"Yes, he should by rights," Peckover agreed. "But he may not be a marrying man."

Lady Ormstork looked scandalized. "Every man is a marrying man when he meets a girl like Ulrica. Besides, it is the duty of every peer to marry, or what will become of our old n.o.bility? Heaven only knows to whom, as matters stand, the Quorn t.i.tle will go next."

Peckover had an idea that he could claim to share the knowledge. "He ought to come to a firm offer if he means business," he said.

"Our time here is getting short," Lady Ormstork declared significantly.

Not but what she was prepared to grace Great Bunbury with her presence for a twelvemonth if that were likely to bring off the match. "As Ulrica's temporary guardian I cannot allow Quorn to flirt with her indefinitely if he has no intention of proposing."

"No," Peckover responded promptly, wondering how he could get a look in. Then a happy idea struck him. "Quorn is a shilly-shallying fellow," he said guilefully. "Can't make up his mind. I usually have to do it for him."

"I wish you would in this instance," the lady exclaimed fervently.

"Well, I think I might," he replied with sudden animation. "But of course it won't do for me to tell him straight he ought to propose.

He'd see you working the figure. No, I've got a more artful plan than that."

"Oh, you dear Mr. Gage!" cried Lady Ormstork, brightening at the prospect of an end to her uninteresting sojourn at The Cracknels. "Do tell me."

"Easy enough," said Peckover, sparkling likewise; "and highly effective. One trial will prove it, or money returned. Make him jealous."

"How can we?" asked the dowager with a dubiousness which her companion did not find altogether complimentary.

"Leave it to me," he replied, his sparkle subsiding to a touch of huffiness. "Don't you think I'm equal to it?"

"Oh, yes, indeed, dear Mr. Gage," the lady drawled, eyeing him still rather doubtfully.

"Don't you make any mistake about it," he protested severely. "I always was first favourite with the ladies, and Quorn knows it--to his cost, I may tell you."

"And you are still friends?" was the astute comment.

"Sworn friends," Peckover replied with much truth. "I'll prove it by making up his mind for him to marry the finest girl in England."

"And what is your plan?" Lady Ormstork inquired approvingly.

Rapidly the alert little mind had blocked in the outline of his scheme.

"Let me make the running for a lap or two," he suggested. "If that doesn't hurry him up, nothing will. You come up as usual to-morrow; I'll slip away from Quorn, meet you, and go off for a stroll with Miss Ulrica. You come on to the Hall. Tell Quorn offhand, when he asks, what has become of the young lady. Say she thought she'd prefer a stroll with me for a change, and if he sits still after that it's odds against Miss Buffkin being Lady Quorn. You watch the effect."

Lady Ormstork looked as though she might be safely trusted to keep her eyes open for it.

Next day things happened as had been arranged. Peckover made a timely desertion, and Lady Ormstork arrived at the Towers dignified and alone.

"Not brought Miss Buffkin to-day?" Gage asked, trying to look as though he had still got the better half of the Cracknels establishment. "Hope she's not ill?"

"Oh, dear no," Lady Ormstork answered sweetly. "She is here. But we met your charming friend, Mr. Gage, just by the lodge gates, and dear Ulrica said she had been cramped up in the fly long enough, so she got out to stroll up through the park."

Gage evidently experienced some difficulty in looking as pleased as a host should at the idea of his guest doing what pleases her best. "I see," he said, uneasily reflective. "Shall we walk back and meet them?