been sent for. He had come and gone. He had confirmed the
Scarby doctor's opinion, with a private leaning to the side of hope.
Hannay, who had waited to hear his verdict, was going back to Scale
early the next morning. Mrs. Majendie had been in her husband's room all
day, and he had seen little of her.

He was sitting alone by the fire after dinner, trying to read a paper,
when she came in. Her approach was so gentle that he was unaware of it
till she stood beside him. He started to his feet, mumbling an apology
for his bewilderment. He pulled up an arm-chair to the fire for her,
wandered uneasily about the room for a minute or two, and would have left
it, had she not called him back to her.

"Don't go, Mr. Hannay. I want to speak to you."

He turned, with an air of frustrated evasion, and remained, a supremely
uncomfortable presence.

"Have you time?" she asked.

"Plenty. All my time is at your disposal."

"You have been very kind--"

"My dear Mrs. Majendie--"

"I want you to be kinder still. I want you to tell me the truth."

"The truth--" Hannay tried to tighten his loose face into an expression
of judicial reserve.

"Yes, the truth. There's no kindness in keeping things from me."

"My dear Mrs. Majendie, I'm keeping nothing from you, I assure you. The
doctors have told me no more than they have told you."

"I know. It's not that."

"What is it that's troubling you?"

"Did you see Walter before he came here?"

"Yes."

"Did you see him on Friday night?"

"Yes."

"Was he perfectly well then?"

"Er--yes--he was well. Quite well."

Anne turned her sorrowful eyes upon him.

"No. There was something wrong. What was it?"

"If there was he didn't tell me."

"No. He wouldn't. Why did you hesitate just now?"

"Did I hesitate?"

"When I asked you if he was well."

"I thought you meant did I notice any signs of his illness coming on. I
didn't. But of course, as you know, he was very much shaken by---by your
little girl's death."

"You noticed that while I was away?"

"Y-es. But I certainly noticed it more on the night you were speaking
of."

"You would have said, then, that he must have received a severe shock?"

"Certainly--certainly I would."

Hannay responded quite cheerfully in his immense relief.

It was what they were all trying for, to make poor Mrs. Majendie believe
that her husband's illness was to be attributed solely to the shock of
the child's death.

"Do you think that