ntle dignity which Mallinson had never known in her
before, and he felt that it raised a more solid barrier between them than
even her refusal had done.

Fielding, meanwhile, waited with an uneasy conscience which no casuistry
would lighten. He threw himself in Mallinson's way time after time in
order to ascertain whether the latter had spoken. Mallinson let no word
of the matter slip from him, and for the rest seemed utterly despondent.
Fielding threw out a feeler at last.

'Of course,' he said, 'you would never repeat what I told you about
Gorley. I forgot to mention that.'

Mallinson flushed. 'Of course not,' he said awkwardly.

Fielding turned on him quickly. 'Then what made you tell Miss Le
Mesurier?'

Mallinson was too taken aback to deny the accusation. 'Oh, Miss Le
Mesurier,' he replied, 'knew already.'

'She knew? Who told her?'

'Drake.'

Fielding drew in his breath and whistled. His first feeling was one of
distinct relief, that after all he had not been the means by which
Clarice had come to her knowledge; his second was one of indignation
against Drake. He realised how a frank admission from Drake would
outweigh in the girl's susceptible nature the fact admitted. 'What on
earth induced him to reveal it?'

'I suppose he is a little more cunning than one took him for. No doubt he
saw the thing would get known sooner or later, and thought the disclosure
had better come from himself.'

Fielding had been leaning to the same opinion, but the moment he heard it
stated, and stated by Mallinson, he felt a certain conviction that it was
wrong. 'I don't believe that,' he said sharply.

He was none the less, however, indignant with Drake. To intermeddle at
all in other people's concerns was averse to his whole theory of
existence. But to intermeddle, and not very creditably, and out of the
most disinterested motives of benevolence and expediency, and then to
fail! All this was nothing short of degrading. He dined that night at
his club, to which Drake had been elected, and lay in wait for him.
Drake, however, did not appear, and at ten o'clock Fielding went round
to his rooms.

Drake was living in chambers on the Embankment, a little to the west of
Hungerford Bridge. As he was shown into the room, Fielding could not help
noticing the plainness of its furniture and adornment. The chairs were
covered with a cheap red cretonne; there was an armchair or two with the
high seat and long elbows, which seemed t