"Who drew the short lighter?" she whispered, before she knew that she
had spoken.

"I am not here to answer questions," he replied. "And I have asked none.
Neither, you will observe, have I blamed you. But I desire that you will
never again allude to this subject, and that you will keep in mind that
I do not intend to discuss it with you."

He laid down the _Imitation_ and moved towards his own room.

With a sudden movement she flung herself upon her knees before him and
caught his arm. The attitude suggested an amateur.

"Which drew the short lighter?" she gasped, her small upturned face
white and convulsed.

"You will know in five months' time," he said. Then he extricated
himself from her trembling clasp and left the room, closing the door
quietly behind him.

CHAPTER IV

For the sin ye do by two and two ye must pay for one by one!
--RUDYARD KIPLING.

When Hugh awoke the morning after Lady Newhaven's party the day was
already far advanced. A hot day had succeeded to a hot night. For a few
seconds he lay like one emerging from the influence of morphia, who
feels his racked body still painlessly afloat on a sea of rest, but is
conscious that it is drifting back to the bitter shores of pain, and who
stirs neither hand nor foot for fear of hastening the touch of the
encircling, aching sands on which he is so soon to be cast in agony once
more.

His mind cleared a little. Rachel's grave face stood out against a dark
background--a background darker surely than that of the summer night. He
remembered with self-contempt the extravagant emotion which she had
aroused in him.

"Absurd," Hugh said to himself, with the distrust of all sudden springs
of pure emotion which those who have misused them rarely escape. And
then another remembrance, which only a sleeping-draught had kept at bay,
darted upon him like a panther on its prey.

He had drawn the short lighter.

He started violently, and then fell back trembling.

"Oh, my God!" he said, involuntarily.

He lay still, telling himself that this dreadful nightmare would pass,
would fade in the light of common day.

His servant came in noiselessly with a cup of coffee and a little sheaf
of letters.

He pretended to be asleep; but when the man had gone he put out his
shaking hand for the coffee and drank it.

The mist before his mind gradually lifted. Gradually, too, the horror on
his face whitened to