Always he was the laughingly tolerant conqueror who had but a lazy scorn for his triumphs.
He did not strike the graver note until it became suspected that there were crooks in the house bent upon stealing the famous Gordon jewels.
That it was Throckmorton who averted this catastrophe by sheer nerve and by use of his rare histrionic powers--as when he disguised himself in the coat and hat of the arch crook whom he had felled with a single blow and left bound and gagged, in order to receive the casket of jewels from the thief who opened the safe in the library, and that he laughed away the thanks of the grateful millionaire, astonished no one in the audience, though it caused Merton Gill to wonder if he could fell a crook with one blow.

He must practice up some blows.
Throckmorton left the palatial country home wearied by the continuous adulation.

The last to speed him was the Gordon daughter, who reminded him of their wager; within ten days he would acknowledge her to be an actress fit to play as his leading woman.
Throckmorton drove rapidly to a simple farm where he was not known and would be no longer surfeited with attentions.

He dressed plainly in shirts that opened wide at the neck and assisted in the farm labours, such as pitching hay and leading horses into the barn.

It was the simple existence that he had been craving--away from it all! No one suspected him to be Hubert Throckmorton, least of all the simple country maiden, daughter of the farmer, in her neat print dress and heavy braid of golden hair that hung from beneath her sunbonnet.