e other day," I gasped vaguely. I went out
into the passage, and sat down on an oak chest. The world seemed
rocking around me. I was so stunned that I could _not feel_!

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

IT'S A QUEER WORLD.

Edward Hallett and--Charmion! Charmion and--Edward Hallett! The
combination of those two names struck me dumb. Oh, it was madness--the
most inconceivable, the most preposterous madness. And yet, and yet--
the more I thought, the more the links seemed to "fit in". He was of
the right age, the right nationality: the few words of description which
had fallen from her lips applied accurately to his appearance.

I went home, and sat in stunned silence, staring into space. I went to
bed and lay awake for hours, still pondering, still puzzling. I rose in
the morning, and wandered about the flat like a lost dog, unable to
work, unable to rest, unable to eat. By evening I was in such a state
of nerves that it seemed impossible to endure the suspense a moment
longer. The prospect of another wakeful night gave the final touch to
my impatience. I scribbled a note to Mr Thorold, begging him to come
down at once, and sent the orphan upstairs to deliver it.

He came at once; quite anxious and perturbed. Was I ill? Had I had bad
news? Was there anything he could do? I motioned him to a chair, and
began vaguely:--

"Not bad news--at least--a shock! I've had a shock! It has distressed
me terribly! I couldn't sleep. It was Mr Travers. I was reading to
him again yesterday, and he said something about Mr Hallett. It
appears that he knew him years ago."

Mr Thorold's face hardened. I had seen him in almost every phase of
sadness and anxiety, but never with that flash in the eye, that
sternness of the lips. His voice was cold and sharp.

"Travers? Indeed! And what had Travers to say? Nothing good, if I
know the man."

"He--he spoke of Mr Hallett's wife--"

"And you were not aware that he had a wife? It is an old story, Miss
Harding; an old sore. Is it necessary to tell one's whole life history
to--er--an--"

"An acquaintance? No, no--of course not. Don't think me presumptuous
and inquisitive. I should never have mentioned it, if I had not a
reason--a good reason. Have I ever seemed to pry into your affairs?"

He softened at that.

"Never! Never! You have been all that is tactful--all that is kind. I
do trust you, Miss Harding, but this affair of Hallett's gets me on the
raw.