t of his usual reserved composure. He sat down
mechanically at his writing-table and drew a sheet of writing-paper idly
towards him, wondering how he should formulate his reply. To his great
surprise and somewhat shamefaced amusement, he found that his hand was
shaking so that he could not control the pen. He would go up before
writing and tell Rachel. Then, as he went upstairs, he was conscious of
a secret annoyance that a third person should just at this moment be
between them.

A profound silence reigned as he opened the drawing-room door. Rachel
and her father were poring intently over the chess-board. Rachel looked
up eagerly as her husband came in.

"Oh, Francis," she said, "I am so glad. Do come and tell me what to do."

"Yes, I wish you would," Sir William said, with some impatience. "Look
what she is doing with her queen."

"Is that a letter you want to show me?" said Rachel, looking at the
envelope in Rendel's hand.

"All right. It will keep," he said quietly, putting it back in his
breast pocket.

Sir William kept his eyes intently fixed upon the board. He would not
countenance any diversion of fixed and rigid attention from the game in
hand.

"That is what I should do," said Rendel, moving one of Rachel's pawns on
to the back line.

"Oh! how splendid!" said Rachel. "I believe I have a chance after all."

Sir William gave a grunt of satisfaction. "That's more like it," he
said. "If you had come up a little sooner we might have had a decent
game."

Rendel made no comment. The game ended in the most auspicious way
possible. Rachel, backed by Rendel's advice, showed fight a little
longer and left the victory to Sir William in the end after a desperate
struggle. The hour of departure came. Rachel and her husband both went
downstairs with Sir William. They opened the door. It was a bright,
starlight night. Sir William announced his intention of walking to a
cab, and with his coat buttoned up against the east wind, started off
along the pavement. Rachel turned back into the house with a sigh as she
saw him go.

"He is getting to look much older, isn't he?" she said. "Poor dear, it
is hard on him to have to turn out at this time of night."

Rendel vaguely heard and barely took in the meaning of what she was
saying. His one idea was that now he would be able to tell her his news.

"Come in here," he said, drawing her into the study. "I want to tell you
something." And he made her sit down in his own