The continental trick of ending with an implied question lent a subtle
meaning to his utterance, and he helped it with covert glance and sour
smile. Thus might Caesar Borgia ask some minion if he could use a
dagger. But Royson was too humiliated by his blunder to pay heed to
hidden meanings. He grasped the card in his muddied fingers, and looked
towards Miss Fenshawe, who was now patting one of the horses. Her
aristocratic aloofness was doubly galling. She, too, had heard what he
said, and was ready to classify him with the common herd. And, indeed,
he had deserved it. He was wholly amazed by his own churlish outburst.
Not yet did he realize that Fate had taken his affairs in hand, and
that each step he took, each syllable he uttered in that memorable
hour, were part and parcel of the new order of events in his life.

Quite crestfallen, he hurried away. He found himself inside the gates
of the park before he took note of direction. Then he went to the edge
of the lake, wetted his handkerchief, and rubbed off the worst of the
mud-stains. While engaged in this task he calmed down sufficiently to
laugh, not with any great degree of mirth, it is true, but with a grain
of comfort at the recollection of Seymour's eulogy.

"King Dick!" he growled. "Times have changed since last I heard that
name. By gad, five years can work wonders."

And, indeed, so can five seconds, when wonders are working, but the
crass ignorance of humanity oft prevents the operation being seen. Be
that as it may, Royson discovered that it was nearly eleven o'clock
before he had cleaned his soiled clothes sufficiently to render himself
presentable. As he set out once more for his rendezvous, he heard the
band playing the old Guard back to quarters. The soldiers came down the