letter was more powerful than reverent. Stinging tears darted to
his eyes--he pressed his lips passionately on the fair writing.

"My darling--my darling!" he murmured. "What a miserable
misunderstanding!"

Then without another moment's delay he rushed into Neville's study and
cried abruptly--

"Look here! It's all your fault."

"_My_ fault!" gasped the amazed secretary.

"Yes--your fault!" shouted Errington almost beside himself with grief
and rage. "Your fault, and that of your accursed _wife_, Violet Vere!"

And he dashed the letter, the cause of all the mischief, furiously down
on the table. Neville shrank and shivered,--his grey head drooped, he
stretched out his hands appealingly.

"For God's sake, Sir Philip, tell me what I've done?" he exclaimed
piteously.

Errington strode up and down the room in a perfect fever of impatience.

"By Heaven, it's enough to drive me mad!" he burst forth.

"Your wife!--your wife!--confound her! When you first discovered her in
that shameless actress, didn't I want to tell Thelma all about it--that
very night?--and didn't you beg me not to do so? Your silly scruples
stood in the way of everything! I was a fool to listen to you--a fool to
meddle in your affairs--and--and I wish to God I'd never seen or heard
of you!"

Neville turned very white, but remained speechless.

"Read that letter!" went on Philip impetuously. "You've seen it before!
It's the last one I wrote to your wife imploring her to see you and
speak with you. Here it comes, the devil knows how, into Thelma's hands.
She's quite in the dark about _your secret_, and fancies I wrote it on
my own behalf! It looks like it too--looks exactly as if I were pleading
for myself and breaking my heart over that detestible stage-fiend--by
Jove! it's too horrible!" And he gave a gesture of loathing and
contempt.

Neville heard him in utter bewilderment. "Not possible!" he muttered.
"Not possible--it can't be!"

"Can't be? It _is_!" shouted Philip. "And if you'd let me tell Thelma
everything from the first, all this wouldn't have happened. And you ask
me what you've done! _Done!_ You've parted me from the sweetest, dearest
girl in the world!"

And throwing himself into a chair, he covered his face with his hand and
a great uncontrollable sob broke from his lips.

Neville was in despair. Of course, it was his fault--he saw it all
clearly. He painfully recalled all that had happened since that night at
the Brilliant