.

"Don't you see," she exclaimed, "don't you see that if there is the
least doubt of Mr. Parflete's death, we ought to go to them. Some one
must follow them."

"There is that touch of the absurd about it," said Reckage, "which makes
it difficult for a friend to come forward. To pursue a man on his
wedding journey----"

"It is no laughing matter," put in Lord Garrow; "and if the woman has
deceived the poor fellow, it's a monstrous crime."

"Oh, she hasn't; she couldn't deceive him," said Pensee. "I know her
intimately."

"She was considered very clever--at Madrid," said Sir Piers, finely. "To
you she may appear more to be pitied than she really is."

"Don't say such things! I won't hear them. I love her very much."

"Perhaps she is clever enough to appear stupid in public."

"No, no!" Her voice trembled and tears gushed from her eyes. "You will
regret these words. This news will kill her."

"Something must be done," said Sara. "Beauclerk, you ought to follow
them and tell them. Pensee is right."

"This will make a horrid scandal," said Lord Garrow, who was appalled at
the prospect of being mixed up in so disagreeable an affair. "Why not
leave it alone? It is not our business."

"But it is Beauclerk's business, papa. Just put yourself in his place.
Surely that is not asking too much."

"We must avoid everything precipitate," said Reckage; "we mustn't be
over-hasty."

Lady Fitz Rewes wiped her eyes, rose from the table, and began to draw
on her gloves.

"But we must be friends," she said; "if you cannot go to them, I will.
Do you realise the poor child's position? An illegal marriage! She is
the most gentle, beautiful person I ever saw, with the best head, the
purest heart. She professes _nothing_. I judge her by her actions."

"But you must see," said Reckage, "that I can't give Orange all this
pain unless I have something more definite to go on. Sir Piers tells us
that he played cards with Wrexham Parflete last week." He paused.

"Wait a moment," said Harding; "wait a moment. Does any one present know
Parflete's handwriting?"

"I do," said Pensee. "I saw his last letter to his wife. He wrote it
before he committed suicide."

Sir Piers took out his pocket-book, and, from the several papers it
contained, selected a three-cornered note.

"By the merest chance," said he, "I have this with me."

The others unconsciously left their seats and looked over his shoulder
while he smoothed out the sheet. I