vised. If he fights
desperately it may take a fortnight. In any case I don't leave the work
an hour till it is done. I can delay, and I can fight; but I never mix
the two. Come, Lady Bassett, there is something on your mind you don't
like to say. Well, what does it matter? I will pack my bag, and write
to Dr. Suaby that he may expect me soon; but I will wait till I get a
line from you to go ahead. Then I'll go down that instant and do the
work."

This proposal was clearly agreeable to Lady Bassett, and she thanked
him.

"You need not waste words over it," said he. "Write one word, 'ACT!'
That will be the shortest letter you ever wrote."

The rest of the conversation is not worth recording.

Mr. Rolfe instructed a young solicitor minutely, packed his bag, and
waited.

But day after day went by, and the order never came to act.

Mr. Rolfe was surprised at this, and began to ask himself whether he
could have been deceived in this lady's affection for her husband. But
he rejected that. Then he asked himself whether it might have cooled.
He had known a very short incarceration produce that fatal effect. Both
husband and wife interested him, and he began to get irritated at the
delay.

Sir Charles's letters made him think they had already wasted time.

At last a letter came from Gloucester Place.

"Will my kind friend now ACT?

"Gratefully,

"BELLA BASSETT."

Mr. Rolfe, upon this, cast his discontent to the winds and started for
Bellevue House.

On the evening of that day a surgeon called Boddington was drinking tea
with his wife, and they were talking rather disconsolately; for he had
left a fair business in the country, and, though a gentleman of
undoubted skill, was making his way very slowly in London.

The conversation was agreeably interrupted by a loud knock at the door.

A woman had come to say that he was wanted that moment for a lady of
title in Gloucester Place, hard by.

"I will come," said he, with admirably affected indifference; and, as
soon as the woman was out of sight, husband and wife embraced each
other.

"Pray God it may all go well, for your sake and hers, poor lady."

Mr. Boddington hurried to the number in Gloucester Place. The door was
opened by the charwoman.

He asked her with some doubt if that was the house.

The woman said yes, and she believed it was a surprise. The lady was
from the country, and was looking out for some servants.

This colloquy was inter