down his hat and strode upstairs.

If he had shut her out! She found herself wondering what would have
become of her, where she would have gone. She would have had to go to
the Coburg, or to Claridge's, without a maid, without luggage. As she
slowly came upstairs she heard her husband go into the drawing-room. Was
he waiting for her there? or did he wish to avoid her? When she
reached the broad landing she hesitated. She was half inclined to go in
audaciously, to laugh in his face; turn his fury into ridicule, tell him
she was the sort of woman who is born to do as she likes, to live as she
chooses, to think of nothing but her own will, consult nothing but her
whims of the moment. But she went on and into her bedroom.

Josephine was there and began to take the diamonds out of her hair. Lady
Holme did not say a word. She was listening intently for the sound of
any movement below. She heard nothing. When she was undressed, and there
was nothing more for the maid to do, she began to feel uneasy, as if
she would rather not dismiss the girl. But it was very late. Josephine
strangled her yawns with difficulty. There was no excuse for keeping her
up any longer.

"You can go."

The maid went out, leaving Lady Holme standing in the middle of the big
bedroom. Next to it on one side was Lord Holme's dressing-room. On the
other side there was a door leading into Lady Holme's boudoir. Almost
directly after Josephine had gone Lady Holme heard the outer door of
this room opened, and the heavy step of her husband. It moved about
the room, stopped, moved about again. What could he be doing? She stood
where she was, listening. Suddenly the door between the rooms was thrown
open and Lord Holme appeared.

"Where's the red book?" he said.

"The red book!"

"Where is it? D'you hear?"

"What do you want it for?"

"That sweep's address."

"What are you going to do? Write to him?"

"Write to him!" said Lord Holme, with bitter contempt. "I'm goin' to
thrash him. Where is it?"

"You are going now?"

"I've not come up to answer questions. I've come for the red book. Where
is it?"

"The little drawer at the top on the right hand of the writing-table."

Lord Holme turned back into the boudoir, went to the writing-table,
found the book, opened it, found the address and wrote it down on a bit
of paper. He folded the paper up anyhow and thrust it into his waistcoat
pocket. Then, without saying another word to his wife, or looking a