tely, and which had also until quite lately been entirely financed by
him. Even if he baffled her questions, his consciousness of the facts
would make it too desperately difficult a task for him to assume the
_role_ of Molly's disinterested friend now, although in truth he felt as
such, and would have done and suffered much to help her.

Edmund had by nature a considerable sympathy with success, with pluck,
with men or women who did things well. There are so many bunglers in
life, so few efficient characters, and he felt Molly to be entirely
efficient. Even the over-emphasis of wealth in the setting of her life
had been effective; it fitted too well into what the modern world wanted
to be out of proportion. A thing that succeeded so very well could
hardly be bad form. Hesitation, weakness, would have made it vulgar;
hesitation and weakness in past days had often made vulgar emphasis on
rank and power, but in the hands of the strong such emphasis had always
been effective and fitting. There was a kind of artistic regret in
Edmund's mind at the thought that this excellent comedy of life as
played by Molly should be destroyed. And he had come to think it
certainly would be destroyed.

One last piece of evidence had convinced him more than any other.

Nurse Edith had a taste for the dramatic, and enjoyed gradual
developments. Therefore she had kept back as a _bonne bouche_, to be
served up as an apparent after-thought, a certain half sheet of paper
which she had preserved carefully in her pocket-book since the night on
which she had made the copy of Sir David Bright's will. It was the
actual postscript to Sir David's long letter to Rose; the long letter
Nurse Edith had put back in the box and which had remained there
untouched until Molly had taken it out. The postscript would not be
missed, and might be useful. It was only a few lines to this effect:

"P.S.--I think it better that you should know that I am sending a few
words to Madame Danterre to tell her briefly that justice must be done.
Also, in case anyone, in spite of my precautions to conceal it, is
aware that I possessed the very remarkable diamond ring I mention in
this letter, and asks you about it, I wish you to know that I am sending
it direct to Madam Danterre in my letter to her. May God forgive me,
and, by His Grace, may you do likewise."

The sight of David's handwriting, the astonishing verification of his
own first surmise, the vivid memory of Rose un