and asked quietly, indeed gently, yet with
little promise of acquiescence in his tone. "I am not a detective, after
all."

But that was added for the sake of adding something, and was enough to
prove Steel ill at ease, to the wife who knew him as no man ever had.

"A detective, no!" said she, readily enough. "But you are a rich man;
you could employ detectives; you could clear your wife, if you liked."

"Rachel, you know very well that you are cleared already."

"That is your answer, then!" she cried scornfully, and snatched her eyes
from him at last, without waiting for a denial. She was done with him,
her face said plainly; he looked at her a moment, then turned aside with
a shrug.

But Rachel's eyes went swiftly round the room; they alighted for an
instant upon Morna Woodgate, leaning forward upon the sofa where they
had sat together, eager, enthusiastic, but impotent as a woman must be;
they passed over the vicar, looking stolid as usual, and more than a
little puzzled; but at last they rested on Langholm's thin, stooping
figure, with untidy head thrust forward towards her, and a light in his
dreamy eyes that kindled a new light in her own.

"You, Mr. Langholm!" cried Rachel, taking a quick, short step in his
direction. "You, with your plots and your problems that nobody can
solve; don't you think you could unravel this one for me?"

Her eyes were radiant now, and their radiance all for him. Langholm felt
the heart swimming in his body, the brain in his head. A couple of
long-legged strides to meet her nine-tenths of the way, and he had taken
Rachel's hand before her husband and her friends.

"Before God," said Langholm, "I'll try!"

Their hands met only to part. There was a sardonic laugh from Rachel's
husband.

"Do you forbid me?" demanded Langholm, turning upon him.

"Far from it," said Steel. "I shall be most interested to see you go to
work."

"Is that a challenge?"

The two men faced each other, while the third man and the women looked
on. It had sounded like a challenge to all but the vicar, though neither
of the others had had time to think so before they heard the word and
recognized its justice.

"If you like," said Steel, indifferently.

"I accept it as such," rejoined Langholm, dogging the other with his
eyes. "And find him I will--the guilty man--if I never write another
line--and if the villain is still alive!"

CHAPTER XX

MORE HASTE

There are eminent men of action who