male part of my domestics last night by accepting a
bed and then disappearing!"

"With the plate?"

"Not a thing missing. Parkins spent an agonised half hour, counting
everything. Mr. Ludwig appears to be one of those unsolved mysteries
which go to make up an imperfect world."

"Well, we've had a jolly time," Caroline said reminiscently. "To-morrow
Henry and I are off, and I suppose the others. I must say on the whole I
am delighted with our visit."

"You are very gracious," Dominey murmured.

"I came, perhaps, expecting to see a little more of you," she went
on deliberately, "but there is a very great compensation for my
disappointment. I think your wife, Everard, is worth taking trouble
about. She is perfectly sweet, and her manners are most attractive."

"I am very glad you think that," he said warmly.

She looked away from him.

"Everard," she sighed, "I believe you are in love with your wife."

There was a strange, almost a terrible mixture of expressions in his
face as he answered,--a certain fear, a certain fondness, a certain
almost desperate resignation. Even his voice, as a rule so slow and
measured, shook with an emotion which amazed his companion.

"I believe I am," he muttered. "I am afraid of my feelings for her. It
may bring even another tragedy down upon us."

"Don't talk rubbish!" Caroline exclaimed. "What tragedy could come
between you now? You've recovered your balance. You are a strong,
steadfast person, just fitted to be the protector of anything so sweet
and charming as Rosamund. Tragedy, indeed! Why don't you take her
down to the South of France, Everard, and have your honeymoon all over
again?"

"I can't do that just yet."

She studied him curiously. There were times when he seemed wholly
incomprehensible to her.

"Are you still worried about that Unthank affair?" she asked.

He hesitated for a moment.

"There is still an aftermath to our troubles," he told her, "one cloud
which leans over us. I shall clear it up in time,--but other things may
happen first."

"You take yourself very seriously, Everard," she observed, looking at
him with a puzzled expression. "One would think that there was a side
of your life, and a very important one, which you kept entirely to
yourself. Why do you have that funny little man Seaman always round with
you? You're not being blackmailed or anything, are you?"

"On the contrary," he told her, "Seaman was the first founder of my
fortunes."