she had always supposed to have be written in a spirit of exaggerated
Oriental imagery, had she read such an indictment of a human being. And
this monster was going to meet her at Derrelton Station in a few short
minutes. She would know him at once; he would have the dark beetling
brows, the quick, furtive glance, the sneering, unsavoury smile that
always characterised the Sir Jaspers of this world. It was too late to
escape; she must force herself to meet him with outward calm.

It was a considerable shock to her to find that Robert was fair, with a
snub nose, merry eye, and rather a schoolboy manner. "A serpent in
duckling's plumage," was her private comment; merciful chance had
revealed him to her in his true colours.

As they drove away from the station a dissipated-looking man of the
labouring class waved his hat in friendly salute. "Good luck to you, Mr.
Bludward," he shouted; "you'll come out on top! We'll break old
Chobham's neck for him."

"Who was that man?" asked Alethia quickly.

"Oh, one of my supporters," laughed Robert; "a bit of a poacher and a bit
of a pub-loafer, but he's on the right side."

So these were the sort of associates that Robert Bludward consorted with,
thought Alethia.

"Who is the person he referred to as old Chobham?" she asked.

"Sir John Chobham, the man who is opposing me," answered Robert; "that is
his house away there among the trees on the right."