ts the rag?" asks Saxham raspingly. "Do you suppose
that any unauthorised announcement, or statement that has not been
officially corroborated would be allowed to pass? The paragraph comes from
an authoritative source, you may be sure!"

"I am in a position to disprove it, from whatever source it comes!" cried
the Chaplain hotly. "He shall contradict it himself, if there is
necessity. He may be a prodigal and a rake--he bears that reputation--but
at least he is not a liar and a scoundrel."

"Who?" Saxham's heart is drubbing furiously. A cool, vivifying liquid like
ether seems to have passed into his blood. His quiet, set, determined face
and masterful, observant eyes oppose the Chaplain's heat and indignation,
as if these were waves of boiling lava beating on a cliff of granite. "Who
is not a liar and a scoundrel?"

"I speak of Lord Beauvayse," says the Reverend Julius Fraithorn in the
high-pitched voice that shakes with rage. "He is a married man, Saxham; I
have incontrovertible testimony to prove it. He gave his name to the woman
who was his mistress a week before he sailed for Cape Town. He----"

There is a strange rattling noise in the throat of the man who listens.
Julius looks at him, and his own resentment appears, even to himself, as
impotent and ridiculous as the anger of a child. If just before it has
seemed to him that he has heard the voice of mankind's arch-enemy speaking
with Saxham's mouth, he discerns at this moment, reflected in Saxham's,
the face of the primal murderer. And being, as well as a sincere and
simple-hearted clergyman, something of a weakling, he is shocked to
silence.

XLVI

An instant, and Saxham's own face looks calmly at the dazed Chaplain, and
the curt, brusque voice demands:

"What is this incontrovertible testimony?"

"A letter," says Julius breathlessly, "from a person who saw the entry of
the marriage at the Registrar's office where it took place."

"Is anyone else in possession of this information?"

"With the exception of the Registrar and the witnesses of the marriage, up
to the middle of last September, when the letter was written, nothing had
leaked out. I received the communication by the last mail from England
that was delivered at the Hospital before I underwent the operation."

"That was the last mail that got through. Who was your correspondent?"

"One of the senior officiating priests of St. Margaret's, Wendish Street,
the London church where I did d