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” He was intrigued. ‘What did you do with the portrait then? Not that I suppose it is much use any longer. He’s riding down the drive. “Never mind, old chap,” he declared. ” Cathy hugged her. Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. For days I have been undecided as to whether I would come to you or no. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone.

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