Gaston went to Manchester Square. He half dreaded a meeting with Alice,
and yet he wished it. He did not find her. She had gone to Paris with
her uncle, the servant said. He got their address. There was little left
to do but to avoid reporters, two of whom almost forced themselves
in upon him. He was to go back to Douarnenez by the little boat that
brought him, and at seven o'clock in the morning he watched the mists of
England recede.

He chanced to put his hand into a light overcoat which he had got at his
chambers before he started. He drew out a paper, the one discovered in
the solicitor's office in London. It was an ancient deed of entail of
the property, drawn by Sir Gaston Belward, which, through being lost,
was never put into force. He was not sure that it had value. If it had,
all chance of the estate was gone for him; it would be his uncle's.
Well, what did it matter? Yes, it did matter: Andree! For her? No, not
for her. He would play straight. He would take his future as it came: he
would not drop this paper into the water.

He smiled bitterly, got an envelope at a publichouse on the quay, wrote
a few words in pencil on the document, and in a few moments it was on
its way to Sir William Belward, who when he received it said:

"Worthless, quite worthless, but he has an honest mind--an honest mind!"

Meanwhile, Andree was in Paris. Leaving her bag at the Gare
Montparnasse, she had gone straight to Ian Belward's house. She had
lived years in the last few hours. She had had no sleep on the journey,
and her mind had been strained unbearably. It had, however, a fixed
idea, which shuttled in and out in a hundred shapes, but ever pointing
to one end. She had determined on a painful thing--the only way.

She reached the house, and was admitted. In answer to questions, she had
an appointment with monsieur. He was not within. Well, she would wait.
She was motioned into the studio. She was outwardly calm. The servant
presently recognised her. He had been to the menagerie, and he had seen
her with Gaston. His manner changed instantly. Could he do anything? No,
nothing. She was left alone. For a long time she sat motionless, then a
sudden restlessness seized her. Her brain seemed a burning atmosphere,
in which every thought, every thing showed with an unbearable intensity.
The terrible clearness of it all--how it made her eyes, her heart ache!
Her blood was beating hard against every pore. She felt that she would
go m