and
find out how the land lies. I can be back early in the afternoon."

So the matter was settled. As they went off to bed Lisle casually remarked
that he had not seen Thorne that day: "Is he out, I wonder?"

Miss Bryant was making her nightly examination of the premises. She
overheard the remark as she turned down the gas in the passage, and
informed them that when Mr. Thorne came in from the office he complained
of a headache, asked for a cup of tea and went early to bed. "Poor
fellow!" said Lisle.--"Good-night, Miss Bryant."

Apparently, Percival's headache did not keep him in bed, for a light
gleamed dimly in his sitting-room late that Tuesday night.

CHAPTER XLV.

A THUNDERBOLT IN STANDON SQUARE.

It was just one o'clock on the following Thursday, and Thorne was walking
from the office to Bellevue street. He had adopted a quicker and more
business-like pace than in old days, and came down the street with long
steps, his head high and an abstracted expression on his face. Suddenly he
stopped. "Miss Lisle!" he exclaimed. "Good God! What is the matter?"

It was Judith, but so pale, with fear and horror looking so terribly out
of her eyes, that she was like a spectre of herself. She stopped short as
he had done, and gazed blankly at him.

"Judith, what is it?" he repeated. "For God's sake, speak! What is the
matter?"

He saw that she made a great effort to look like her usual self, and that
she partly succeeded. "I don't know," she answered. "Please come, Mr.
Thorne, but don't say anything to me yet. Not a word, please."

In silence he offered her his arm. She took it, and they went on together.
Something in Judith Lisle always appealed with peculiar force to
Percival's loyalty. He piqued himself on not even looking inquiringly at
his companion as they walked, but he felt her hand quivering on his arm,
and his brain was busy with conjectures. "Bertie has been away the last
day or two," he said to himself. "Can she have heard any bad news of him?
But why is she so mysterious about it, for she is not the girl to make a
needless mystery?" When they reached Bellevue street she quitted his arm,
thanked him with a look and went up stairs. Percival followed her.

She opened the door of her sitting-room and looked in. Then she turned to
the young man, who stood gravely in the background as if awaiting her
orders.

"Will you come in?" she said. But when she thought he was about to speak
she made a quick s