would not step into very comfortably lined shoes. It was
unfortunate that he should lose his father in such a tragic way, and
the keen eye of the world saw the weak point in his story at once.
But the coroner's jury was respectful, and the rest of society never
so much as hinted at the possibility that Guy had not tried his best
to keep his father alive.

Among the letters of sympathy, the young fellow received a note from
Lady Cantourne, whose acquaintance he had successfully renewed, and
in due course he called at her house in Vere Gardens to express
somewhat lamely his gratitude.

Her ladyship was at home, and Guy Oscard was ushered into her
presence. He looked round the room, with a half-suppressed gleam of
searching which was not overlooked by Millicent Chyne's aunt.

"It is very good of you to call," she said, "so soon after your poor
father's death. You must have had a great deal of trouble and
worry. Millicent and I have often talked of you, and sympathised
with you. She is out at the moment, but I expect her back almost at
once. Will you sit down?"

"Thanks," he said; and after he had drawn forward a chair he
repeated the word vaguely and comprehensively--"Thanks"--as if to
cover as many demands for gratitude as she could make.

"I knew your father very well," continued the lady, "when we were
young. Great things were expected of him. Perhaps he expected them
himself. That may have accounted for a tone of pessimism that
always seemed to pervade his life. Now, you are quite different.