nd distress.

Would Bracondale notice the change in her?

She put away the pearls, and, replacing the case in the safe, locked it.

Bates, her rather sour-faced maid, entered at the moment. She was a
thin, angular person, very neat and prim, an excellent hairdresser, and
a model of what a first-class maid should be.

"Why, you don't look well this afternoon, madam," she said, glancing at
her inquiringly.

"No, Bates. It's the heat, I think. Will you bring me my
smelling-salts?" she asked, as she sank into an arm-chair, a pretty
figure in her pale-blue silk dressing-gown.

The maid brought the large, silver-topped bottle across from the
dressing-table and handed it to her mistress, who, after sniffing it,
dismissed her.

Then Jean sat for a full half-hour staring straight before her, looking
down the long vista of her own tragic past.

At midnight that letter would be safe in her hand. She consoled herself
with the thought that, by acceding to Ansell's demand, as she had done,
she would rid herself of him for ever.

Her honour would be preserved, and Bracondale would never know. For the
sake of her child, how could she confess to him?

He joined her in the _petit salon_, where she gave him tea, and then,
till dinner, he retired into the study to complete the despatches for
which Martin was to call and take to Downing Street.

At dinner she wore a pretty gown of cream lace, the waist and skirt
being trimmed with broad, pale-blue satin ribbon, fashioned into big,
flat bows; a Paris gown of the latest _mode_, which suited her
admirably. It was rather high in the neck, and all the jewellery she
wore was a single brooch.

He also looked smart in his well-cut dinner jacket, with a light grey
waistcoat and black tie; and as they sat opposite each other they
chatted merrily. She had composed herself, and was now bearing herself
very bravely.

It was, however, a relief to her when, just as they had finished
dessert, Jenner entered, saying:

"Captain Martin is in the study, m'lord."

"Oh, yes!" exclaimed the great statesman, rising at once. Then, turning
to Jean, he said: "You'll excuse me, dearest, won't you? I must get
Martin off. I've finished. Have you?"

"Yes, dear," was her reply. "You go. I'm just going to see Enid for a
little while."

"After I've got Martin off I shall go along to Polivin's. I'm sorry to
leave you this evening. But you won't mind, dear, will you?"

"Not at all," was her prompt repl