to do. Tell her."

Mr. Harding, aghast, "Tell her?"

"Yes, tell her about our love, about everything. I am not ashamed. Let
her judge me."

Mr. Harding sinks into a chair. He keeps shivering and saying, "I tell
you, I can't; I can't. She wouldn't understand." The letter is
fluttering in his hand. His face is contemptible. He does it splendidly.
Lady Cicely picks the letter from his hand. She reads it aloud, her eyes
widening as she reads:

HOTEL BRISTOL, PARIS.

MY DARLING BOY:

I have found you at last--why have you sought
to avoid me? God grant there is nothing wrong.
He is dead, the man I taught you to call your
father, and I can tell you all now. I am coming
to you this instant.

MARGARET HARDING.

Lady Cicely reads, her eyes widen and her voice chokes with horror.

She advances to him and grips his hand. "What does it mean, Jack, tell
me what does it mean?"

"Good God, Cicely, don't speak like that."

"This--these lines--about your father."

"I don't know what it means--I don't care--I hated him, the brute. I'm
glad he's dead. I don't care for that. But she's coming here, any
minute, and I can't face it."

Lady Cicely, more quietly, "Jack, tell me, did my--did Sir John Trevor
ever talk to you about your father?"

"No. He never spoke of him."

"Did he know him?"

"Yes--I think so--long ago. But they were enemies--Trevor challenged him
to a duel--over some woman--and he wouldn't fight--the cur."

Lady Cicely (dazed and aghast)--"I--understand--it--now." She recovers
herself and speaks quickly.

"Listen. There is time yet. Go to the hotel. Go at once. Tell your
mother nothing. Nothing, you _understand_. Keep her from coming here.
Anything, but not that. Ernestine,"--She calls to the maid who reappears
for a second--"a taxi--at once."

She hurriedly gets Harding's hat and coat. The stage is full of bustle.
There is a great sense of hurry. The audience are in an agony for fear
Ernestine is too slow, or calls a four-wheel cab by mistake. If the play
is really well put on, you can presently hear the taxi buzzing outside.
Mr. Harding goes to kiss Lady Cicely. She puts him from her in horror
and hastens him out.

She calls the maid. "Ernestine, quick, put my things, anything, into a
valise."

"Madame is going away!"

"Yes, yes, at once."

"Madame will not eat?"

"No, no."