II


The three men being left together, Davenant's conviction of inner
excitement on the part of his host was deepened. It was as if, on the
withdrawal of the ladies, Guion had less intention of concealing it. Not
that at first he said anything directly or acted otherwise than as a man
with guests to entertain. It was only that he threw into the task of
offering liqueurs and passing cigars a something febrile that caused his
two companions to watch him quietly. Once or twice Davenant caught
Temple's eye; but with a common impulse each hastily looked elsewhere.

"So, Mr. Davenant, you've come back to us. Got here only this afternoon,
didn't you? I wonder why you came. Having got out of a dull place like
Waverton, why should you return to it?"

Looking the more debonair because of the flush in his face and the gleam
in his eye, Guion seated himself in the place his daughter had left
vacant between his two guests. Both his movements and his manner of
speech were marked by a quick jerkiness, which, however, was not without
a certain masculine grace.

"I don't know that I've any better reason," Davenant laughed, snipping
off the end of his cigar, "than that which leads the ox to his
stall--because he knows the way."

"Good!" Guion laughed, rather loudly. Then, stopping abruptly, he
continued, "I fancy you know your way pretty well in any direction you
want to go, don't you?"