To such a man the allurements such a young woman as Miss Vanderpoel would present would be extraordinary.It was unfortunate that she should have been thrown in his way.At the same time it was not possible to state the case clearly during one's first call on a beautiful stranger.
"His going to America was rather spirited," said the mellow voice beside him."I thought only Americans took their fates in their hands in that way.For a man of his class to face a rancher's life means determination.It means the spirit----"with a low little laugh at the leap of her imagination--"of the men who were Mount Dunstans in early days and went forth to fight for what they meant to have.He went to fight.He ought to have won.He will win some day.""I do not know about fighting," Lord Westholt answered.
Had the fellow been telling her romantic stories? "The general impression was that he went to America to amuse himself.""No, he did not do that," said Betty, with simple finality.
"A sheep ranch is not amusing----" She stopped short and stood still for a moment.They had been walking down the avenue, and she stopped because her eyes had been caught by a figure half sitting, half lying in the middle of the road, a prostrate bicycle near it.It was the figure of a cheaply dressed young man, who, as she looked, seemed to make an ineffectual effort to rise.
"Is that man ill?" she exclaimed."I think he must be."They went towards him at once, and when they reached him he lifted a dazed white face, down which a stream of blood was trickling from a cut on his forehead.He was, in fact, very white indeed, and did not seem to know what he was doing.
"I am afraid you are hurt," Betty said, and as she spoke the rest of the party joined them.The young man vacantly smiled, and making an unconscious-looking pass across his face with his hand, smeared the blood over his features painfully.
Betty kneeled down, and drawing out her handkerchief, lightly wiped the gruesome smears away.Lord Westholt saw what had happened, having given a look at the bicycle.
"His chain broke as he was coming down the incline, and as he fell he got a nasty knock on this stone," touching with his foot a rather large one, which had evidently fallen from some cartload of building material.
The young man, still vacantly smiling, was fumbling at his breast pocket.He began to talk incoherently in good, nasal New York, at the mere sound of which Lady Anstruthers made a little yearning step forward.
"Superior any other," he muttered."Tabulator spacer--marginal release key--call your 'tention--instantly--'justable --Delkoff--no equal on market." And having found what he had fumbled for, he handed a card to Miss Vanderpoel and sank unconscious on her breast.
"Let me support him, Miss Vanderpoel," said Westholt, starting forward.
"Never mind, thank you," said Betty."If he has fainted I suppose he must be laid flat on the ground.Will you please to read the card.
It was the card Mount Dunstan had read the day before.
J.BURRIDGE & SON, DELKOFF TYPEWRITER CO.
BROADWAY, NEW YORK.G.SELDEN.
"He is probably G.Selden," said Westholt."Travelling in the interests of his firm, poor chap.The clue is not of much immediate use, however."They were fortunately not far from the house, and Westholt went back quickly to summon servants and send for the village doctor.The Dunholms were kindly sympathetic, and each of the party lent a handkerchief to staunch the bleeding.