oment he knew genuine
fear--the non-physical fear which the impalpable can awake in the
bravest mind. Through the open window the companionable mutter of London
entered. The normality of everything on which his eyes rested did its
best to reassure him--the mellow evening sunlight in the friendly room,
the flowers in the rockery, the toy-boat on the pond. "I never dig up my
dead." He remembered Maisie's motto. But what if the dead----

He pulled himself together. Pollock not dead! An absurd suggestion!
Maisie had changed her name twice since then--a sufficient proof! The
poor fellow was demented. Everything that he had done bore the hall-mark
of insanity. He had owned that he had been deranged to within a month
ago. Everything that he had said might be quite true. He probably had
been the dead man's friend and in love with Maisie at the time of her
first marriage. The misfortunes that had befallen him had exaggerated
his love into mania--a mania which the news of Gervis and then of
Lockwood had rendered active. He felt an immense compassion for the man.
There, save for the grace of God, sat himself. But what was to be done?
Already Maisie was overdue. Not a second could be wasted. He must humor
him and get him out of the house, if a scene was to be prevented.

And all the time the stranger had been watching him--following his
thoughts, no doubt. He spoke again. "Don't you agree with me? It would
be damned awkward if Pollock came back."

Tabs forced a smile. "I'm not so sure that I do. She never loved any one
but her first husband. She's told me so. The other two---- I don't
believe she herself knows how they happened. They were soldiers. They
weren't long for this world. She didn't want to do them out of
anything." He glanced at his watch. "By Jove, and I've not dined yet!
I'm afraid I must be off. How about you? I'd be awfully glad if you'd
take dinner with me."

The man jumped to his feet, so that Tabs rose with him. But once they
were on their feet an amused expression of cunning came into his eyes.
It told Tabs plainly that he had seen through the strategy. He shook his
head. "Very good of you. But I'm waiting for Maisie." He held out his
hand. It was evident that he was determined to take Tabs at his word.
"We'll meet again, perhaps. What you've just said piques my curiosity.
Before you go, there's one more question. In your opinion what would
Maisie's attitude be if Pollock did come back?"

Tabs was instantly