s arm: "Poor Bunning! What a brute
I was to tell you!"

"He used to come and say nothing--just look at me. I couldn't stand it,
you know. I'm not a clever man--not at all clever--and I used to try
and think of things to talk about, but it always seemed to come back to
Carfax--every time."

"And then--when you told me the other day about your caring for Miss
Craven--I felt that I must do something. I'd always puzzled, you know,
why I should be brought into it at all. I didn't seem to be the sort of
fellow who'd be likely to be mixed up with a man like you. I felt that
it must be with some purpose, you know, and now--now--I thought I
suddenly saw--

"I don't know--I thought he'd believe me--I thought he'd tell the police
and they'd arrest me--and that'd be the end of it."

Here Bunning took a handkerchief and began miserably to gulp and sniff.

"But, good heavens!" Olva cried, "you didn't suppose that they wouldn't
discover it all at the police-station in a minute! Two questions and
you'd be done! Why, man----!"

"I didn't know. I thought it would be all right. I was all alone that
afternoon, out for a walk by myself--and you'd told me how you did it.
I'd only got to tell the same story. I couldn't see how any one should
know---I couldn't really . . . I don't suppose"--many gulps--"that I
thought much about that--I only wanted to save you."

How bright and wonderful the day! How full of colour the world! And it
was all over, all absolutely, finally done.

"Now--look here, stop that sniffing--it's all right. I'm not angry with
you. Just tell me exactly what you said to Craven yesterday when you
told him."

Bunning thought. "Well, he came into my room quite early after my
breakfast. I was reading my Bible, as I used to, you know, every
morning, to see whether I could be interested again, as I used to be. I
was finding I couldn't when Craven came in. He looked queer. He's been
looking queerer every day, and I don't think he's been sleeping. Then
he began to ask me questions, not actually about anything, but odd
questions like, Where was I born? and Why did I read the Bible? and
things like that--just to make me comfortable--and his eyes were so
funny, red and small and never still. Then he got to you."

The misery now in Bunning's eyes was more than Olva could bear. It was
dumb, uncomprehending misery, the unhappiness of something caught in a
trap--and that trap this glittering dancing world!

"Then he got to y