her?"

"This very minute--but who is she?"

"His wife."

"I thought she was dead?"

"No; he divorced her three years ago."

"Who told you?"

"Ronnie."

"And you never told me!"

"I promised him I wouldn't tell a soul."

The little rascal! He had bound us both; but there was a characteristic
difference as between Delavoye and me, and the feelings that we inspired
in that gallant little heart. Whereas I had surprised its secret, Ronnie
had confided in Uvo of his own free will and accord.

"And it was he who begged me to bring her, Gilly, when he was at his
worst! He said it was his one hope--that she could pull him
through--that he knew she could! So I found her, and she did. She wasn't
really a nurse, but she was his mother; she was his Angel of Life."

"Will she be forgiven?" I asked, when we had looked askance at the
study windows, that gave us back only the wavering reflection of shrubs
and of the chimneys opposite.

"Will she forgive?" returned Uvo sardonically. "It's always harder for
the one who's in the wrong, and there's always something to be said for
him or her!"

"Does she know that her husband needs to be saved as well?"

"Hush!" said Delavoye. The door had opened. Coplestone came out upon the
step, and stood there feeling in his pockets.

I held my breath; and the only creature who counted just then, in all
that road of bleak red houses, and in all the wintry world beyond, was
the great shaken fellow coming down the path.

"You might give this to the cabby," said he, filling my palm with loose
silver. "Just tell him we shan't want him now!"

CHAPTER VI

Under Arms

It must have been in my second year of humble office that the burglary
scare took possession of Witching Hill. It was certainly the burglars'
month of November, and the fogs confirmed its worst traditions. On a
night when the street lamps burst upon one at the last moment, like the
flash of cannon through their own smoke, a house in Witching Hill Road
was scientifically entered, and the silver abstracted in a style worthy
of precious stones. In that instance the thieves got clear away with
their modest spoil. It was as though they then made a deliberate
sporting selection of the ugliest customer on the Estate. Their choice
fell upon a Colonel Arthur Cheffins, who not only kept fire-arms but
knew how to use them, and gave such an account of himself that it was a
miracle how the rascals escaped with their lives.