ry, the shuffle of feet across a hardwood floor, the
bang of a door closed quickly, and then in a voice toned to sudden
_insouciance_ and overdoing it:

"Here I am, Rob, in the library."

He stood frozen stiff for an instant, as his legal experience
whispered to him all the possibilities hidden in those few sounds. The
main thing was to keep his head! He went to the library and found
Helen sitting alone in his own especial chair, peacefully reading
Boswell's "Life of Johnson," as he was quick to notice as he passed
behind her.

Although her attitude was one of rather sleepy repose, there were
signs of a hasty rearrangement of the _mise en scene_, which
corroborated the aural evidence which reached him in the hall. Near
the door to the reception room was a piece of paper; he slipped on a
round "Carteret" pencil as he went to his desk in a silence that he
felt that he could not break, without also breaking a few other
things.

Helen sat watching him in surprise--not an altogether genuine
surprise, he thought, after one glance--thank Heaven, he was an expert
in moral turpitudes and sinuosities--the woman did not live who could
deceive him!

"Did you forget something, Rob? Why didn't you telephone? I could have
sent it to you," she asked, simply. Ah, that accursed simplicity!
Well, she would find that he was not simple, that was one sure thing.

"No, Helen, I forgot nothing--I never do forget anything," he said,
with sullen meaning. "Where's Betty?"

"It's a fair day and it's eleven; of course she is out in the park,"
replied Helen, smiling.

He smiled too, but in such a way that she sat forward in her chair
with dilated eyes, into which Robert read a rising fear.

"Dear, what is it? What is wrong?"

"Wrong? Who said wrong? _I_ didn't," he found himself saying, greatly
to his disappointment, for suspicions are useless until graduated
into--evidence; so he hastened to explain his errand; sorting over
some papers at his desk meanwhile. All the time his mind was intent
upon one thing only--the possession of that piece of paper lying near
the reception-room door.

He walked toward the cabinet in the corner to fill his pockets with
cigars; the paper was lying just behind him, and as he turned he would
stoop and pick it up.

He heard a slight noise behind him, and, wheeling-swiftly, discovered
Helen creeping toward the paper, her hand already outstretched. With
one quick movement he snatched it from the floor, an