shivered a little, and drew
her cloak around her.

"Come," she said, "I am getting cold and cramped."

He walked by her side to the hotel. At the foot of the steps she left
him.

"We shall meet again in London," she said, quietly. "Don't be too hard
upon your old friends when you take your seat. Remember that you were
once one of us."

She looked round and waved her hand as she disappeared. He caught a
glimpse of her face as she passed underneath the hanging lamp--the face
of a tired woman suddenly grown old. With a little groan he made his way
into the hotel, and slowly ascended the stairs.

Early the next morning Mannering left Bonestre, and in twenty-four hours
he was back again, summoned by a telegram which had met him in London. It
seemed to him that everybody at the station and about the hotel regarded
him with shocked and respectful sympathy. Hester, looking like a ghost,
took him at once to her room. He was haggard and weary with rapid
travelling, and he sank into a chair.

"Tell me--the worst!" he said.

"She started with Mr. Englehall about mid-day," Hester said. "They had
luggage, but I explained that he was going to Paris, she was coming back
by train. At two o'clock we were rung up on the telephone. Their brake
had snapped going down the hill by St. Entuiel, and the chauffeur--he is
mad now--but they think he lost his nerve. They were dashed into a tree,
and--they were both dead--when they were got out from the wreck."

"God in Heaven!" Mannering murmured, white to the lips.

There was a silence between them. Mannering had covered his head with his
hands. Hester tried once or twice to speak, but the tears were streaming
from her eyes. She had the air of having more to say. The white horror of
tragedy was still in her face.

"There is a letter," she said at last. "She left a letter for you."

Mannering rose slowly to his feet and moved to the lamp. Directly he had
broken the seal he understood. He read the first line and looked up. His
eyes met Hester's.

"Who knows--this?" he asked, hoarsely.

"No one! They had not been gone two hours. I explained everything."

Then Mannering read on.

"My dear Husband:

"I call you that for the last time, for I am going off with Englehall
to Paris. Don't be too shocked, and don't despise me too much. I am
just a very ordinary woman, and I'm afraid I've bad blood in my veins.
Anyhow, I can't go on living under a glass case any longer. The old