floor tenants, that he and
Ethel could occupy, and in this an old toilet table could be put for
such studies as were to be prosecuted at home. Ethel could have her
typewriter in the subterranean breakfast-room. Mrs. Chaffery and Ethel
must do the catering and the bulk of the housework, and as soon as
possible, since letting lodgings would not square with Lewisham's
professional pride, they must get rid of the lease that bound them and
take some smaller and more suburban residence. If they did that
without leaving any address it might save their feelings from any
return of the prodigal Chaffery.

Mrs. Chaffery's frequent and pathetic acknowledgments of Lewisham's
goodness only partly relieved his disposition to a philosophical
bitterness. And the practical issues were complicated by excursions
upon the subject of Chaffery, what he might have done, and where he
might have gone, and whether by any chance he might not return.

When at last Mrs. Chaffery, after a violent and tearful kissing and
blessing of them both--they were "good dear children," she said--had
departed, Mr. and Mrs. Lewisham returned into their sitting-room.
Mrs. Lewisham's little face was enthusiastic. "You're a Trump," she
said, extending the willing arms that were his reward. "I know," she
said, "I know, and all to-night I have been loving you. Dear! Dear!
Dear...."

The next day Lewisham was too full of engagements to communicate with
Lagune, but the following morning he called and found the psychic
investigator busy with the proofs of _Hesperus_. He welcomed the young
man cordially nevertheless, conceiving him charged with the questions
that had been promised long ago--it was evident he knew nothing of
Lewisham's marriage. Lewisham stated his case with some bluntness.

"He was last here on Saturday," said Lagune. "You have always been
inclined to suspicion about him. Have you any grounds?"

"You'd better read this," said Lewisham, repressing a grim smile, and
he handed Lagune Chaffery's letter.

He glanced at the little man ever and again to see if he had come to
the personal portion, and for the rest of the time occupied himself
with an envious inventory of the writing appointments about him. No
doubt the boy with the big ears had had the same sort of thing ...

When Lagune came to the question of his real identity he blew out his
cheeks in the most astonishing way, but made no other sign.

"Dear, dear!" he said at last. "My bankers!"

He