he was staying in the same house as the girl, love for whom
he had always so vehemently disclaimed.

Poor Dorise spent a sleepless night. She lay awake thinking--and yet
thinking!

At breakfast her mother looked at her and, with satisfaction, saw that
she had gained a point nearer her object.

Dorise went into Bond Street shopping at eleven o'clock, still undecided
whether to face Hugh or not. The shopping was a fiasco. She bought only
a bunch of flowers.

But in her walk she made a resolve not to make further excuse. She would
not ask her mother for the car, and Hugh, by waiting alone, should be
left guessing.

On returning home, her mother told her of George's acceptance of an
invitation to lunch.

"There's a matinee at the Lyric, and he's taking us there," she added.
"But, dear," she went on, "you look ever so pale! What is worrying you?
I hope you are not fretting over that good-for-nothing waster, Henfrey!
Personally, I'm glad to be rid of a fellow who is wanted by the police
for a very serious crime. Do brighten up, dear. This is not like you!"

"I--well, mother, I--I don't know what to do," the girl confessed.

"Do! Take my advice, darling. Think no more of the fellow. He's no use
to you--or to me."

"But, mother dear--"

"No, Dorise, no more need be said!" interrupted Lady Ranscomb severely.
"You surely would not be so idiotic as to throw in your lot with a man
who is certainly a criminal."

"A criminal! Why do you denounce him, mother?"

"Well, he stands self-condemned. He has been in hiding ever since that
night at Monte Carlo. If he were innocent, he would surely, for your
sake, come forward and clear himself. Are you mad, Dorise--or are you
blind?"

The girl remained silent. Her mother's argument was certainly a very
sound one. Had Hugh deceived her?

Her lover's attitude was certainly that of a guilty man. She could not
disguise from herself the fact that he was fleeing from justice, and
that he was unable to give an explanation why he went to the house of
Mademoiselle at all.

Yvonne Ferad, the only person who could tell the truth, was a hopeless
idiot because of the murderous attack. Hence, the onus of clearing
himself rested upon Hugh.

She loved him, but could she really trust him in face of the fact that
he was concealed comfortably beneath the same roof as Louise Lambert?

She recalled that once, when they had met at Newquay in Cornwall over a
tete-a-tete lunch, he had said, in