y sever his connection with a leading firm? Why not
plead ill-health, nervous breakdown, those doctor's orders which have
opened a way of escape from impasses of the mind as well as of the body?
An archaeologic tour in Spain, a yachting cruise in the Mediterranean,
a winter in Egypt--all these things would be to Westray's taste; the
blameless herb nepenthe might anywhere be found growing by the wayside.
He must amuse himself, and forget. He wished he could _assure_ Westray
that he would forget, or grow used to remembering; that time heals
wounds of conscience as surely as it heals heart-wounds and
flesh-wounds; that remorse is the least permanent of sentiments. But
then Westray might not yet wish to forget. He had run full counter to
his principles. It might be that he was resolved to take the
consequences, and wear them like a hair-shirt, as the only means of
recovering his self-esteem. No; whatever penance, voluntary or
involuntary, Westray might undergo, Lord Blandamer could only look on in
silence. His object had been gained. If Westray felt it necessary to
pay the price, he must be let pay it. Lord Blandamer could neither
inquire nor remonstrate. He could offer no compensation, because no
compensation would be accepted.

The little party were nearing the house when a servant met them.

"There is a man come over from Cullerne, my lord," he said. "He is
anxious to see Mr Westray at once on important business."

"Show him into my sitting-room, and say that Mr Westray will be with
him immediately."

Westray met Lord Blandamer in the hall a few minutes later.

"I am sorry to say there is bad news from Cullerne," the architect said
hurriedly. "Last night's gale has strained and shaken the tower
severely. A very serious movement is taking place. I must get back at
once."

"Do, by all means. A carriage is at the door. You can catch the train
at Lytchett, and be in Cullerne by mid-day."

The episode was a relief to Lord Blandamer. The architect's attention
was evidently absorbed in the tower. It might be that he had already
found the blameless herb growing by the wayside.

The nebuly coat shone on the panel of the carriage-door. Lady Blandamer
had noticed that her husband had been paying Westray special attention.
He was invariably courteous, but he had treated this guest as he treated
few others. Yet now, at the last moment, he had fallen silent; he was
standing, she fancied, aloof. He held hi