t trick. It spoilt an otherwise classically regular set of
features.

"James!" he shouted.

The footman entered.

"Take this gentleman to your mistress. I have done with him."

"For the present, James," said Brett.

The astonished servant led him along a corridor and knocked at a door
hidden by a silk curtain. Mrs. Capella rose to receive her visitor. She
was very pale now, but quite calm and dignified in manner.

"Davie did not come with you?" she said when Brett was seated near to her
in an alcove formed by an oriel window.

"No. He is with Miss Layton."

"Ah, I am not sorry, I prefer to talk with you alone."

"It is perhaps better. Your cousin is impulsive in some respects, though
self-contained enough in others."

"It may be so. I like him, although we have not seen much of each other
since we were children. I knew him this morning principally on account of
his likeness to Alan. But you are his friend, Mr. Brett, and I can discuss
with you matters I would not care to broach with him. He is with Helen
Layton now, you say?"

"Yes, and let me add an explanation. Those two young people are devoted to
each other. No power on earth could separate them."

"Why do you tell me that?"

"Because I think you wished to be assured of it?"

"You are clever, Mr. Brett. If you can interpret a criminal's designs as
well as you can read a woman's heart you must be a terror to evil-doers."

A slight colour came into her cheeks. The barrister leaned forward, his
hands clasped and arms resting on his knees.

"I have just seen your husband," he said.

She exhibited no marked sign of emotion but he thought he detected a
frightened look in her eyes.

"Again I ask," she exclaimed, "why do you tell me?"

"The reason is obvious. You ought to know all that goes on. There was a
quarrel this morning between him and David Hume. Your husband wished me to
arrange a duel. I promised him a visit from the police if I heard any more
of such nonsense."

"A duel! More bloodshed!" she almost whispered.

"Do not have any alarm for either of them. They are quite safe. I will
guarantee so much, at any rate. But your husband is a somewhat curious
person. He is prone to strong and sudden hatreds--and attachments."

Margaret pressed her hands to her face. She could no longer bear the
torture of make-believe quiescence.

"Oh, what shall I do!" she wailed. "I am the most miserable woman in
England to-day, and I might have been the happ