"What nonsense that is!" he said, impatiently. "Here, Miriam"--turning
to his wife, as she came languidly down the stairs--"just tell Miss
Grant that she's got to dine with us to-night; she'll keep us from going
to sleep."

"Won't you?" asked Miriam, listlessly. "I wish you would; I'm sure Lord
Sutcombe would like you to."

"Thank you very much," said Celia, as she passed on; "but I would rather
dine alone. I've a great deal to do to-night and must not waste time
over dinner."

"Oh, look here----!" began Heyton; but at the moment the butler advanced
with a telegram. Heyton took it and looked at it, and his manner changed
instantly. He stared at the telegram; his face growing pale, his teeth
closing hard on the cigarette.

"What is it, Percy?" asked Miriam, as Celia passed into the library.

"Eh?" he said, with a start, as if waking up. "Oh, nothing! Yes, it is;
it's dam bad news, I can tell you."

"Money again!" she said, with an impatient shrug of her shoulders.

"Yes, money; and a lot of it," he retorted. "Look here, Miriam, I'm in a
hole, and a precious deep one this time. Hush! Here's the old man!" He
broke off warningly, as the Marquess came into the hall.