enzy of
disappointment a fierce oath burst from his lips.

"That's what comes of trusting a woman!--she is going to cheat me. She
has gained her end, and will put me off with excuses."

But perhaps a telegram would come. He made a pretence of breakfasting,
and paced his room for an hour like a caged animal. When the monotony
of circulating movement had all but stupefied him, he was awakened by a
double postman's knock at the front door, the signal that announces a
telegram.

Again from Patty, and again a request that he would come to the shop at
mid-day.

"Just as I foresaw--excuses--postponement. What woman ever had the
sense of honour!"

To get through the morning he drank--an occupation suggested by the
heat of the day, which blazed cloudless. The liquor did not cheer him,
but inspired a sullen courage, a reckless resolve. And in this frame of
mind he presented himself before Patty Ringrose.

"She can't go to-day," said Patty, with an air of concern. "You were
quite right--she is really ill."

"Has she gone out?"

"No, she's upstairs, lying on the bed. She says she has a dreadful
headache, and if you saw her you'd believe it. She looks shocking. It's
the second night she hasn't closed her eyes."

A savage jealousy was burning Hilliard's vitals. He had tried to make
light of the connection between Eve and that unknown man, even after
her extraordinary request for money, which all but confessedly she
wanted on his account. He had blurred the significance of such a
situation, persuading himself that neither was Eve capable of a great
passion, nor the man he had seen able to inspire one. Now he rushed to
the conviction that Eve had fooled him with a falsehood.

"Tell her this." He glared at Patty with eyes which made the girl
shrink in alarm. "If she isn't at Charing Cross Station by a quarter to
eleven to-morrow, there's an end of it. I shall be there, and shall go
on without her. It's her only chance."

"But if she really _can't_----"

"Then it's her misfortune--she must suffer for it. She goes to-morrow
or not at all. Can you make her understand that?"

"I'll tell her."

"Listen, Patty. If you bring her safe to the station to-morrow you
shall have a ten-pound note, to buy what you like in Paris."

The girl reddened, half in delight, half in shame.

"I don't want it--she shall come----"

"Very well; good-bye till to-morrow, or for good."

"No, no; she shall come."

He was drenched in perspirat