think--I
can't tell why, but I feel it strongly--that everybody may have some
reason for being glad."

It seemed unlikely there would be a chance for a talk that evening, as
Nelson Smith was dining at one of the clubs he had joined. The other
three members of the household were to have a hasty dinner and go to
the first performance of a new play--a play in which Knight was not
interested. Afterward they expected to sup at the Savoy with the
friend who had asked them to her box at the theatre; but the box was
empty save for themselves.

While they wondered, a messenger brought a note of regret. Sudden illness
had kept their would-be hostess in her room.

Without her, the supper was considered not worth while. The play had run
late, and the trio voted for home and bed.

"If Nelson has come, I'll try and have a word with him to-night, after
all," thought Constance, "provided I can keep my promise by getting Anne
out of the way. Then I can phone to Madalena early in the morning, yes or
no, and put her out of her suspense. No such luck, though, as that he
will have got back from his club!"

He had got back, however. The entrance hall was in twilight when Dick
Annesley-Seton let them into the house with his latchkey, for all the
electric lights save one were turned off. That one was shaded with red
silk, and in the ruddy glow it was easy to see the line of light under
the door of the "den."

Annesley noticed it, but made no comment. Knight never asked her to join
him in the den, but alluded to it as an untidy place, a mere work room
which he kept littered with papers; and only the new butler, Charrington,
was allowed to straighten its disorder.

This, of course, was not butler's business, but Knight said the footmen
were stupid, and Charrington had been persuaded or bribed into performing
the duty. Annesley's life of suppression had made her shy of putting
herself forward; and though Knight had never told her that she would be
a disturbing element in the den, his silence had bolted the door for her.

Constance, however, was not so fastidious.

"Oh, look!" she said, before Dick had time to switch on another light.
"Nelson's got tired of his club, and come home!"

As she spoke, almost as if she had willed it, the door opened. But it was
not Knight who came out. It was the younger Charrington, the chauffeur,
called "Char," to distinguish him from his solemn elder brother, the
butler.

The red-haired, red-faced, bl