ot see that it was very material to the
case, and I wanted to keep the poor young lady's name out of the affair as
far as possible. I did not want to suggest that she was an accessory after
the crime."

Hume was blushing like a schoolboy. He glanced miserably at Brett, but the
barrister was still puffing artistic designs in big and little rings.

"Very well. My reason for concealment disappears now," he blurted out, for
the young man was both vexed and ashamed. "That wretched night, after she
returned home, Helen thought she had behaved foolishly in creating a
scene. She put on a cloak, changed her shoes, and slipped back again to
Mrs. Eastham's, where she met Alan just coming away. She implored him to
make up the quarrel with me. He apologised for his conduct, and promised
to do the same to me when we met. He explained that other matters had
upset his temper that day, and he had momentarily yielded to an irritated
belief that everything was against him. Helen watched him enter the park;
she pretended that she was going in to Mrs. Eastham's. She could see the
lighted windows of the library, and she wondered why he did not go inside,
but imagined that at the distance she might easily be mistaken. At last
she ran off to the rectory. Again she lingered in the garden, devoutly
wishing that all might be well between Alan and me. Then she became
conscious that something unusual had taken place, owing to the lights and
commotion. For a long time she was at a loss to conjecture what could have
happened. At last, yielding to curiosity, she came back to the lodge. The
gates were wide open. Mrs. Eastham's dance was still in progress. She is
not a timid girl, so she walked boldly up the avenue until she met
Fergusson, the butler, who was then going to tell Mrs. Eastham. When she
heard his story she was too shocked to credit it, and asked him to bring
me. I came. By that time I was beginning to realise that I might be
implicated in the affair, and I begged her to return home at once, alone.
She did so. Subsequently she asked me not to refer to the escapade, for
obvious reasons. It was a woman's little secret, Brett, and I was
compelled to keep it."

"Anything else, Winter?" demanded the barrister, wrapped in a cloud of his
own creation.

"That is all, sir, except the way in which I heard of Miss Layton's
meeting with Mr. Hume."

"Not through Fergusson, eh?"

"Not a bit. The old chap is as close as wax. He seems to think that a