“But good Heavens, Eugène,” said Belturbet hoarsely, “what has become of⁠—Why, there he is! How on earth did he get there?” And he pointed with a shaking finger towards a semblance of the vanished minister, which approached once more along the unfrequented path.

The duke laughed.

“It is Quinston to all outward appearance,” he said composedly, “but I fancy you will find, on closer investigation, that it is an angel understudy of the real article.”

The Angel-Quinston greeted them with a friendly smile.

“How beastly happy you two look sitting there!” he said wistfully.

“I don’t suppose you’d care to change places with poor little us,” replied the duke chaffingly.