d behind him, and he was addressed in tones of the
most conciliatory politeness.

"Gammon, may I beg one word? I owe you an apology. My behaviour last
night was quite unjustifiable. I can only explain it by the fact that I
had undergone a severe trial to the nerves. I was not myself. May I
hope, my dear Gammon, to be forgiven? I apologize most humbly--believe
me."

"Oh, that's all right," replied the other with a grin; "I hope I didn't
hurt you?"

"My dear fellow, it would have served me right. But no--just a few
trifling bruises. By the by, our friend has departed."

"Dead--yes!"

"Do you know, Gammon, I think we ought to have a quiet talk. You and I
have common interests in this matter. There will be an inquest, you
know, and the fact is I think"--he spoke very confidentially--"it might
be as well for us both if we came to some sort of mutual understanding.
As things have turned out we are victims of circumstances. Might I
suggest with all deference that we should dine together very quietly? I
know a very suitable place. It's early for dinner, but, to tell the
truth, I have had no particular appetite, to-day; in fact, have hardly
touched food."

Gammon accepted this invitation and decided to send a telegram to the
china shop.

Their conference--tentative on both sides for the first half hour--led
eventually to a frank disclosure of all that was in their minds with
regard to Lord Polperro. Each possessed of knowledge that made him
formidable to the other, should their attitude be one of mutual
hostility, they agreed, in Greenacre's phrase, to "pool" all
information and then see how they stood. Herein Gammon had the
advantage; he learnt much more than it was in his power to communicate,
for, whilst Greenacre had been playing a deliberate game, the man of
commerce had become possessed of secrets only by chance, which his
friend naturally could not believe.

Greenacre had been to Ireland on the track of a woman whom Lord
Polperro had lost sight of for some five-and-twenty years; he had
obtained satisfactory evidence that this woman was dead--a matter of
some moment, seeing that, if still alive, she would have been his
lordship's wife. The date of her death was seven years and a few months
ago.

"By jorrocks!" cried the listener at this point, greatly disturbed.
"Then Mrs. Clover--as we call her--wasn't really his wife at all?"

"I regret to say that she was not," replied Greenacre with proper
solemnity. "I