, that
you may see. Lord Stamfordham thought that my husband had betrayed the
secret--he told him so then. And to-day--it was too terrible!--he was at
a luncheon to which Frank and Mr. Wentworth went, not knowing----" A
sudden involuntary change in Pateley's face made her stop and say, "But
perhaps you were there? Were you at the luncheon?"

"No," said Pateley. "I was not there."

"But you heard about it?" she said.

"Yes," he said after a pause. "I heard about it."

"It's too horrible!" said Rachel, covering her face with her hands. "Of
course you heard about it--everybody will hear about it: how Lord
Stamfordham insulted him and refused to sit down with him, because of
the unjust accusation that was brought against him. Now do you see," she
said excitedly, and Pateley, as he looked at her, was amazed at the fire
that shone from her eyes, at the glow of excitement in her whole
being--"now do you see how much it matters? how if we don't find out the
truth, if we don't get to know who did it, this is the kind of thing
that will happen to him? You see now, don't you? You will help me?"

Pateley had got up and restlessly paced to the end of the garden and
back, his eyes fixed on the ground, Rachel breathlessly watching him. He
was moved at her distress, he felt the stirrings of something like
remorse at the fate that had overtaken Rendel. But in Pateley's
Juggernaut-like progress through the world he did not, as a rule, stop
to see who were the victims that were left gasping by the roadside. As
long as the author of the mischief drives on rapidly enough, the evil he
has left behind him is not brought home to him so acutely as if he is
compelled to stop and bend over the sufferer. But a brief moment of
reflection made him pretty clear that neither himself nor the _Arbiter_
had anything to fear from the disclosure. He had nothing particularly
heroic in his composition; he would not have felt called upon for the
sake of Francis Rendel, or even for the sake of Rendel's wife, to
sacrifice his own destiny and possibilities if it had been a question of
choosing between his own and theirs; but fortunately this choice would
not be thrust upon him. He looked up and met Rachel's eyes fixed upon
him.

"Yes," he said. "I will help you."

"Oh, thank you!" she cried, her heart swelling with relief. "Will you,
can you find out about it?"

"Yes," said Pateley again. He paused a moment, then came back and stood
in front of her. "I