CHAPTER XX

Mr. Locker determines to rush the Enemy’s Position.

The party at Broadstone was not in what might be called a congenial condition.  There were among them elements of unrest which prevented that assimilation which is necessary to social enjoyment.  Even the ordinarily placid Mr. Fox was dissatisfied.  The trouble with him was—­although he did not admit it—­that he missed the company of Miss Asher.  He had found her most agreeable and inspiriting, but now things had changed, and he did not seem to have any opportunity for the lively chats of a few days before.  He remarked to his wife that he thought Broadstone was getting very dull, and he should be rather glad when the time came for them to leave.  Mrs. Fox was not of his opinion; she enjoyed the state of affairs more than she had done when her husband had been better pleased.  There was something going on which she did not understand, and she wanted to find out what it was.  It concerned Miss Asher and one of the young men, but which one she could not decide.  In any case it troubled Mrs. Easterfield, and that was interesting.

Claude Locker seemed to be a changed man; he no longer made jokes or performed absurdities.  He had become wonderfully vigilant, and seemed to be one who continually bided his time.  He bided it so much that he was of very little use as a member of the social circle.

Mr. Du Brant was also biding his time, but he did not make the fact evident.  He was very vigilant also, but was very quiet, and kept himself in the background.  He had seen Olive and Mr. Hemphill go out in the boat, but he determined totally to ignore that interesting occurrence.  The moment he had an opportunity he would speak to Olive again, and the existence of other people did not concern him.

Mr. Hemphill was walking by the river; Olive had not allowed him to come to the house with her, for his face was so radiant with the ecstasy of not having been discarded by her that she did not wish him to be seen.  From her window Mrs. Easterfield saw this young man on his return from his promenade, and she knew it would not be many minutes before he would reach the house.  She also saw the diplomat, who was glaring across the grounds at some one, probably Mr. Locker, who, not unlikely, was glaring back at him.  She had come up-stairs to do some writing, but now she put down her pen and called to her secretary.

“Miss Raleigh,” said she, “it has been a good while since you have done anything for me.”

“Indeed it has,” said the other with a sigh.

“But I want you to do something this minute.  It is strictly confidential business.  I want you to go down on the lawn, or any other place where Miss Asher may be, and make yourself mal a propos.  I am busy now, but I will relieve you before very long.  Can you do that?  Do you understand?”

The aspect of the secretary underwent a total change.  From a dull, heavy-eyed woman she became an intent, an eager emissary.  Her hands trembled with the intensity of her desire to meddle with the affairs of others.