grew a little pale, biting his lip, and frowning for a
moment, before he assumed a desperate mask of good-humour.

"Hang it, man!" he answered quickly, "be reasonable! Haven't you
forgiven me yet? Though what you have to forgive---- I only want to
congratulate you, to tell you that I admire your work--immensely."

"I don't want your congratulations," interrupted the other hoarsely.
"I might forget the wrong which, as you well know, you have done me;
that is nothing! But have you forgotten your--your friend, Rainham?
You had better go," he added, with a savage gesture. "Go! before I
denounce you, proclaim you, you pitiful scoundrel!"

The man's forced calm had given way to a quivering passion; his lips
trembled under the stress of the words which thronged to them; and
as he turned on his heel, with a glance eloquent of loathing, he did
not notice that Eve was standing close behind her husband, with
parted lips, and intent eyes gleaming out of a face as pale as his
own.

Lightmark recovered himself quickly, shrugging his shoulders as soon
as the other was out of earshot. He glanced at his wife, who was
following Oswyn with her eyes; he did not dare to ask, or even to
think, what she might have heard.

"The man's mad," he said lightly, "madder than ever!"

CHAPTER XXXII

It was Margot who gave him the letter: Oswyn remembered that
afterwards with a kind of superstition. She came to meet him,
wearing an air of immense importance, when his quick step fell upon
the bare wooden stairway which led to his rooms.

"There's a letter for you," she said, nodding impressively, "a big
letter, with a seal on it; and Mrs. Thomas had to write something on
a piece of green paper before the postman would give it to her."

Then she followed him into the twilight of the attic which was his
studio, and watched him gravely while he lighted the gas and, in
deference to her curiosity, broke the seal.

The envelope contained a letter, and a considerable bundle of
papers, folded small, and neatly tied together with red tape.

When he had read the letter, he turned the package over with a sigh,
reflectively eying it for some minutes, and then put it aside.

Later, when Mrs. Thomas, his landlady, had carried the child away to
bed, he took, the papers up again, and, after some hesitation,
slowly untied the tape which encircled them.

The letter was from Messrs. Furnival and Co., the firm of solicitors
who had acted for Rainham,