"Cairo, Mr. Wynne?" Brellier had entered the room and his voice held a
note of surprise. "We shall miss you--"

"Oh, you'll get on all right without me, my friend," returned Wynne with
a grim smile, and a look that included all three of them in its mock
amusement. "I'm not quite so much wanted as I thought. Well, Nigel, I
suppose you'll be giving a dinner, the proper 'stag' party, before you
become a Benedict. Sorry I can't be here to join in the revels."

He put out his hand, Nigel took it, and wrung it with a heartiness and
friendship that he had never before felt; but after all he had conquered!
It was he Antoinette was going to marry. His heart was brimming over with
pity for the man.

"Look here," he said. "Come and dine with me at the Towers before you go,
Wynne, old man. We'll have a real bachelor party as you say. All the
other chaps and you, just to give you a sort of send off. What about
Tuesday? I won't have you say no."

For a moment a look of friendship came into Wynne's eyes. He gazed into
Merriton's, and then returned the hand-grasp frankly. It was almost as
though he understood this mute apology of Nigel's, and took it at its
proper value.

"Thanks, old boy. Very decent of you, I'm sure. Yes, I'd like to have a
peep at the other chaps before I sail. Just for old times' sake. I've
nothing special doing Tuesday that I can't put off. And so--I'll come. So
long."

"Good-bye," said Merriton, rather relieved at Wynne's attitude--and yet,