ubberies of the avenue, he
felt a momentary tightening of the heart--a sense of stepping back into
the trap from which he had just wrenched himself free--a premonition of
the way in which the smooth systematized routine of his wife's existence
might draw him back into its revolutions as he had once seen a careless
factory hand seized and dragged into a flying belt....

But it was only for a moment; then his thoughts reverted to Bessy. It
was she who was to be considered--this time he must be strong enough for
both.

The butler met him on the threshold, flanked by the usual array of
footmen; and as he saw his portmanteau ceremoniously passed from hand
to hand, Amherst once more felt the steel of the springe on his neck.

"Is Mrs. Amherst in the drawing-room, Knowles?" he asked.

"No, sir," said Knowles, who had too high a sense of fitness to
volunteer any information beyond the immediate fact required of him.

"She has gone up to her sitting-room, then?" Amherst continued, turning
toward the broad sweep of the stairway.

"No, sir," said the butler slowly; "Mrs. Amherst has gone away."

"Gone away?" Amherst stopped short, staring blankly at the man's smooth
official mask.

"This afternoon, sir; to Mapleside."

"To Mapleside?"

"Yes, sir, by motor--to stay with Mrs. Carbury."

There was a moment's silence. It had all happened so quickly that
Amherst, with the dual vision which comes at such moments, noticed that
the third footman--or was it the fourth?--was just passing his
portmanteau on to a shirt-sleeved arm behind the door which led to the
servant's wing....

He roused himself to look at the tall clock. It was just six. He had
telephoned from town at two.

"At what time did Mrs. Amherst leave?"

The butler meditated. "Sharp at four, sir. The maid took the three-forty
with the luggage."

With the luggage! So it was not a mere one-night visit. The blood rose
slowly to Amherst's face. The footmen had disappeared, but presently the
door at the back of the hall reopened, and one of them came out,
carrying an elaborately-appointed tea-tray toward the smoking-room. The
routine of the house was going on as if nothing had happened.... The
butler looked at Amherst with respectful--too respectful--interrogation,
and he was suddenly conscious that he was standing motionless in the
middle of the hall, with one last intolerable question on his lips.

Well--it had to be spoken! "Did Mrs. Amherst receive my telepho