eyebrow descended again. He scowled hideously. "_Mais
pourquoi?_ I have not broken it. I have never even made love to her."

Maud's face was very compassionate. "Perhaps that is why. She is so
young--so forlorn--and so miserable. Is it quite impossible for you to
forgive her?"

"Forgive her!" said Saltash. "Does she want to be forgiven?"

"She is fretting herself ill over it," Maud said. "I can't bear to see
her. No, she has told me nothing--except that she is waiting for you to
throw her off--to divorce her. Charlie, you wouldn't do that even if you
could!"

Saltash was silent; the scowl still upon his face.

"Tell me you wouldn't!" she urged.

His odd eyes met hers with a shifting gleam of malice. "There is only one
reason for which I would do that, _ma chere_," he said. "So she has not
told you why she ran away with my friend Spentoli?"

Maud shook her head. "She does not speak of it at all. I only know that
she was unspeakably thankful to Jake for protecting her from him."

"Ah!" Saltash's teeth showed for an instant. "I also am grateful to Jake
for that. He seems to have taken a masterly grip of the situation. Is he
aware that he broke Spentoli's arm, I wonder? It was in the papers,
alongside the tragic death of Rozelle. 'Fall of a Famous Sculptor from a
Train.' It will keep him quiet for some time, I hear, and has saved me
the trouble of calling him out. I went to see him in hospital."

"You went to see him!" Maud exclaimed.

Saltash nodded, the derisive light still in his eyes. "And conveyed my
own condolences. You may tell _la petite_ from me that I do not propose
to set her free on his account. He is not what I should describe as a
good and sufficient cause."

"Thank heaven for that!" Maud ejaculated with relief.

"Amen!" said Saltash piously, and took out his cigarette-case.

She watched him with puzzled eyes till the cigarette was alight and he
smiled at her through the smoke, his swarthy face full of mocking humour.

"Now tell me!" she said then, "how can I help you?"

He made a wide gesture. "I leave that entirely to your discretion, madam.
As you may perceive, I have wholly ceased to attempt to help myself."

"You are not angry with her?" she hazarded.

"I am furious," said Charles Rex royally.

She shook her head at him. "You're not in earnest--and it wouldn't help
you if you were. Besides, you couldn't be angry with the poor little
thing. Charlie, you love her, don't you? You--you wan