"A
splendid specimen of an English gentleman!"
The gentleman grunted and went on to the dining-room.
"What whim is this, Maude?" he asked, irritably.
She yawned behind her beringed hand.
"I am tired. I can't face that stuffy carriage again just yet. Let us
dine here and go on afterwards in the cool."
"Oh, just as you like," he said. "It makes no difference to me!"
"I know," she assented. Then, in an indolently casual way, she asked:
"Who was that gentleman who rode by just now?"
Her father glanced at her suspiciously as he took off his overcoat.
"Now, how on earth should I know, my dear Maude!" he replied, with a
short, harsh laugh. "Some young farmer or cattle dealer, I imagine."
"I said _gentleman_," she retorted, with something approaching
insolence. "You will permit _me_ to know the difference."
Her father coloured angrily, as if she had stung him.
"You'd better go upstairs and take off your things while I order
dinner," he said.
CHAPTER IX.
As Stafford rode homewards he wondered whom the strange pair could be.
It was evident they were not going to stay at the Villa, or they would
have driven straight there; but it was also evident that the gentleman
had heard of Sir Stephen's "little place," or he would not have asked
where it was; but, as Stafford reflected, rather ruefully, it would be
difficult for any traveller passing through the neighbourhood not to
see the new, great white house, or to hear something, perhaps a very
great deal, of the man who had built it.
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