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Updated: June 11, 2025
By the way, is the chauffeur a Frenchman, too?" "No, my l ." Dale caught Medenham's eye, a very cold eye at that instant. "No, sir. He's just a fitter from the London agency." "Well, we must trust to luck. He may not remember me in my chauffeur's kit, which is beastly uncomfortable, by the way. I must get you a summer rig. Here is your money five to one I took.
These French gentlemen whom he had summoned from Paris were bound by a rigid code of honor that would infallibly have caused him to be branded as a murderer had he completed matters to his satisfaction. Nevertheless, he bent and peered closely into Medenham's face, gray now as the sand on which he was lying. "I think it will serve," he muttered to himself.
Marigny dwelt on the surname as if it were a succulent oyster, and, in the undeniable surprise of the moment, Medenham was forced to believe that "Captain" Devar, formerly of Horton's Horse, had dared all by telling his confederate the truth, or some part of the truth. The two men looked squarely at each other, and Marigny did not fail to misinterpret the dubious frown on Medenham's face.
"Of all the odd things!" she murmured, little dreaming that her chance question had sent a thrill of sheer delight through Medenham's every vein. "What is it now?" inquired Mrs. Devar vindictively, for she detested these half confidences. "Oh, nothing of any importance. Fitzroy footed the bill, it seems." "Very probably. He must have bribed the girl to be impudent." Cynthia left it at that.
He had not the slightest notion that the Marquis of Scarland's wife was Medenham's sister, and, with the quick interest of the stock-breeder, he pointed out to Mrs. Leland an animal that resembled one of his own pedigree bulls, at present waxing fat on the Montana ranch. For the moment Mrs. Leland herself had forgotten the relationship between the two men.
Even Medenham's recording angel must have smiled at the conceit, though doubtless shaking a grave head when the announcement of the Dowager's indisposition revealed the first twist from the path of good intent. As for Lady St. Maur, she declared long afterwards that the whole amazing entanglement could be traced distinctly to her fondness for the ducal fruit raised under glass.
It was well that those bulging steel-gray eyes were bent over the card, or they could not have failed to catch the flicker of amazement that swept across Medenham's sun-browned face when he heard the name of his cousin. He had not been in England a full week as yet, and he happened not to have read a list of probable starters for the Derby.
Nothing escaped her; she unraveled every knot; Medenham's few broken words, supplemented by the letter to his brother-in-law which he told her to obtain from Dale, threw light on all the dark places. But the gloom had fled. It was a keenly interested, almost light-hearted, little party that walked through the sunshine to the Hôtel de la Plage.
Then I noticed the pier, and meant to have a look at it before returning to the hotel. Anyhow, you wanted me, Mr. Fitzroy, and here I am. What can I do for you?" Her tone of light raillery, supplemented by that truly daring adaptation of the method of gaining a cause favored by the esoteric philosophy of the East, went far to restore Medenham's wandering faculties.
But Cynthia was near, waving her hands gleefully, and executing a nymph-like thanksgiving dance on a strip of turf by the roadside, so Medenham's views of Mrs. Devar's previous actions were tempered by conditions extraordinarily favorable to her at the moment. She seemed to be aware instinctively of the change in his sentiments wrought by sight of Cynthia.
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