d it the moment I saw him. He hates me because--because--" she
faltered a little--"because I wouldn't marry him. As if I possibly
could!" she ended fierily. "And as if he would have really liked it if I
had!"

"Oh, is that it?" said Daisy, in a tone of enlightenment.

Olga nodded. "He's a beast, Mrs. Musgrave. And what has he been telling
you about Max?"

Daisy hesitated. She was assailed by sudden misgiving. Was it all a
ruse? She did not trust Major Hunt-Goring. She believed him fully
capable of vindictiveness, and yet, so subtle had been his strategy, he
had not seemed vindictive. He had repeated the story idly in the first
place, and, finding she took it seriously, he had advised her to hold
her peace. No, she would do him justice at least. She was convinced that
he had not been deliberately malicious in this case. It had not been his
intention to work evil.

"Tell me what he said!" said Olga.

Her tone was imperative; yet Daisy still hesitated. "Do you know, dear,
I don't think I will," she said.

"Please--you must!" said Olga, with decision. "It concerns me as much as
it does him."

"I am not sure that it really concerns either of you," Daisy said. "It
was just a piece of gossip which may--or may not--have had any
foundation."

"Still, tell me!" Olga insisted. "Forewarned is fore-armed, isn't it?
And things do get so distorted sometimes, don't they?"

"Well, dear--" Daisy was beginning to wish herself well out of the
matter--"it is not a pretty story. You and Nick may possibly have heard
of it. Quite possibly you know it to be untrue. Major Hunt-Goring told
me it was sheer gossip, and he would not vouch for the truth of it. It
concerned the death of your friend Violet Campion."

"Ah!" said Olga. She breathed the word rather than uttered it. All the
colour went out of her face. "Go on!" she whispered. "Go on!"

"You know the tale?" said Daisy.

"Tell me!" said Olga.

Reluctantly Daisy complied. "It was whispered that there had been an
understanding between them, that the poor girl went mad with trouble,
and that--to protect himself from scandal--he gave her a draught that
ended her life."

Briefly, baldly, fell the words, spoken in an undertone, with evident
unwillingness. They went out into silence, a silence that had in it
something dreadful, something that no words could express.

It was many seconds before Daisy ventured a look at the girl's face,
though her arm was still about her. When she