f refuge in
distress. If he had been a man of the people, baby lips might have been
taught to call down Heaven's blessings on his discreet efforts. Those
members of the secluded domain of high respectability for whom he strived
showed their gratitude in a less emotional but more substantial
way--generally in the mellow atmosphere of after-dinner conferences ...
"You had better see my man, Brimsdown. I'll give you a note to him. He'll
square this business for you. Safe? None safer."

Mr. Brimsdown did not accept the axiom of a great English jurist that
every man is justified in evading the law if he can, because it is the
duty of lawmakers not to leave any loophole for evasion. That point of
view of justice as a battle of wits, with victory to the sharpest, was a
little too cynical for his acceptance. But he believed it to be his duty
to safeguard the interests of his client. Robert Turold was dead, and no
longer able to protect his own name. It might be that the facts of his
death involved some scandalous secret of the dead man's which was better
undivulged, and if so it would remain undivulged, could Mr. Brimsdown
contrive it. For the time being he would pursue his investigations and
keep his own counsel.

The sound of an opening door and a shadow athwart the threshold disturbed
his meditations. He looked up, and was confronted by the spectacle of
Thalassa advancing into the room with his eyes fixed upon him.

"Well, Thalassa," he said, "what do you want?"

"To ask you something," was the response. "It's this. It's every man for
himself--now that he's gone."

He jerked his thumb in the direction of the next room. "He took this house
for twelve months, and so it'll have to be paid for. Can I stop here for a
bit? I suppose it's in your hands to say yes or no."

His face was hard and expressionless as ever, but there was a new note in
his voice which struck the lawyer's keen ear--an accent of supplication.
He looked at Thalassa thoughtfully.

"You wish to stay on here until you have made other arrangements for your
future--is that so?" he asked.

"That's it," was the brief reply.

Mr. Brimsdown felt there was more than that--some deeper, secret reason.
Before granting the request it occurred to him to try and get what he
could in exchange. Self-interest is the strongest of human motives, and
men wanting favours are in a mood to yield something in return.

"Well, Thalassa," he said, amiably enough, but watching