A vast area of greenhouses gleamed like a lake on the further side, and beyond were the long lines of stables and outhouses.

Fifty horses had passed through Tamfield the week before, so that, large as were the preparations, they were not more than would be needed.

Who and what could this man be who spent his money with so lavish a hand?
His name was unknown.

Birmingham was as ignorant as Tamfield as to his origin or the sources of his wealth.

Robert McIntyre brooded languidly over the problem as he leaned against the gate, puffing his blue clouds of bird's-eye into the crisp, still air.
Suddenly his eye caught a dark figure emerging from the Avenue gates and striding up the winding road.