spectful way of
speaking, but somehow you don't speak quite so nicely to-day. What has put
you out?'

Her eyes did not quit his face for a moment; her attitude betokened the
utmost keenness of suspicious observation.

'Nothing's put me out, that I know of.'

'Yet you don't speak very nicely--not very respectfully. Perhaps'--he
paused--'perhaps Mr. Shergold is going to leave?'

'P'r'aps he may be.'

'And you're vexed at losing a lodger.'

He saw her lip curl and then she laughed.

'You're wrong there.'

'Then _what_ is it?'

He drew near and made as though he would advance a familiar arm. Emma
started back.

'All right,' she exclaimed, with an insolent nod. 'I'll tell Mr. Shergold.'

'Tell Mr. Shergold? Why? What has it to do with him?'

'A good deal.'

'Indeed? For shame, Emma! I never expected _that_!'

'What do you mean?' she retorted hotly. 'You keep your impudence to
yourself. If you want to know, Mr. Shergold is going to _marry_ me--so
there!'

The stroke was effectual. Harvey Munden stood as if transfixed, but he
recovered himself before a word escaped his lips.

'Ah, that alters the case. I beg your pardon. You won't make trouble
between old friends?'

Vanity disarmed the girl's misgiving. She grinned with satisfaction.

'That depends how you behave.'

'Oh, you don't know me. But promise, now; not a word to Shergold.'

She gave a conditional promise, and stood radiant with her triumph.

'Thanks, that's very good of you. Well, I won't trouble to leave a note.
You shall just tell Shergold that I am leaving England to-morrow for a
holiday. I should _like_ to see him, of course, and I may possibly look
round this evening. If I can't manage it, just tell him that I think he
ought to have given me a chance of congratulating him. May I ask when it is
to be?'

Emma resumed an air of prudery, 'Before very long, I dessay.'

'I wish you joy. Well, I mustn't talk longer now, but I'll do my best to
look in this evening, and then we can all chat together.'

He laughed and she laughed back; and thereupon they parted.

A little after nine that evening, when only a grey reflex of daylight
lingered upon a cloudy sky, Munden stood beneath the plane-trees by Guy's
Hospital waiting. He had walked the length of Maze Pond and had ascertained
that his friend's window as yet showed no light; Shergold was probably
still from home. In the afternoon he had made inquiry at the house of the
deceased doctor, bu