Synopsis

The younger of the two two men standing just outside the Royal enclosure at Ascot on that sunny Cup day heaved a sigh of relief as the more or less informal mannequin parade mingled with the well-dressed crowd and vanished. The other—tall and distinguished, with his silver hair and hawklike, aristocratic features, smiled just a little grimly as he caught the expression on his junior's face. His smile, though humorous and perhaps a trifle mocking, did not lack a certain austerity that hinted at stern determination of character behind the jauntiness of the mere man of the world. "Yes," he said. "She is an amazingly pretty girl, but, if I were you, Tom, I would not think seriously about her." Tom Gilchrist looked a little uneasy. There were times when his uncle, Sir Walter Vanguard, seemed to read his thoughts in an almost uncanny fashion.