65 A Heart Is Stolen by Barbara Cartland

my Lord. They knew what they wanted.”
    “They must also have known,” the Marquis said, “that half the snuffboxes had been removed from the library into the safe.”
    Mr. Markham did not speak and the Marquis was aware that he was holding himself rather stiffly.
    “I was going to speak to you about them today,” he went on, “but I quite understand that you would have put them all in what you considered to be a safe place and only taken out a certain number before my arrival. Is that correct?”
    “Yes, my Lord, completely correct,” Mr. Markham replied.
    The note of relief in his voice was very obvious.
    The Marquis thought that his agent must have been afraid that he would be blamed for not having such valuable possessions as the snuffboxes and the gold ornaments on the dining room table locked up while the servants were at supper.
    ‘He is a very conscientious man,’ the Marquis told himself.
    He was rather touched that Markham should care so sincerely about the objects he had guarded for so many years.
    “I will, of course, my Lord, make all possible enquiries as to whether anyone else has seen the highwaymen,” Mr. Markham was saying, “but I have the uncomfortable feeling that we shall never hear of them again.”
    The Marquis did not contradict him. He had suddenly made up his mind on a course of action and rose from his chair to say,
    “Tell the grooms to bring two horses to the front door. Sir Anthony and I will go riding. Then later in the day, when it is really warm, we might swim in the sea as I used to when I was a boy.”
    “I am sure your Lordship will enjoy that,” Mr. Markham said. “I will send the order to the stables immediately.”
    He walked as far as the door, then he looked back to say,
    “I can only say how deeply sorry I am, my Lord, that this unfortunate robbery should have occurred the first night you honoured us with your presence.”
    “Thank you, Markham.”
    As the agent left the room the Marquis turned almost eagerly to Anthony,
    “We are going on a journey of exploration.”
    “To find what?” Anthony asked.
    “The truth about several things that puzzle me.”
    “Are you fancying yourself as a sleuth?”
    “As a matter of fact I am,” the Marquis replied, “and I find it distinctly intriguing.”

CHAPTER THREE
    The Marquis and Sir Anthony walked into the hall and, as the Marquis took his tall hat from one of the footmen, he saw that Mr. Markham was standing under the stairs.
    “By the way, Markham,” he said, “what is the name of young Wadebridge, who I imagine has now inherited the property?”
    There was a pause before Mr. Markham said in a rather strange tone,
    “His name is Charles, my Lord. Have you any reason for asking?”
    “I thought it might seem unnatural if I am so ignorant about our nearest neighbours,” the Marquis replied.
    As he spoke, he was walking down the steps to where the horses were waiting and Anthony asked,
    “Are you saying that we are going to call on Naboth’s Vineyard? If so, I shall be interested to see it.”
    “So will I. It has been forbidden ground ever since I can remember.”
    They were busily engaged in mounting their horses, which were fresh and, once they were in the saddle and had set off, Anthony said,
    “I think we had better give our mounts their heads before we do anything else. I will race you across the Park.”
    “Right,” the Marquis replied.
    Setting his hat more firmly on his head, they were off, turfs being thrown into the air behind them by the horses’ hoofs.
    In about a mile they drew in their reins and Anthony exclaimed,
    “Dammit, Justin, I cannot think why you always have so much better horses than I can acquire. Would you like to sell the one I am riding?”
    “Certainly not!” the Marquis replied. “You know I never sell my horses.”
    “I was not particularly hopeful when I asked,” Anthony said with a grin.
    They trotted for a little while until they reached a wood. Then the Marquis