He walked twice
very quickly up and down the room; then spinning round on his heel, said
sharply: "Well, we must not waste your father's time. To work."

Winton's simple comment in the cab on the way home was:

"Nice old chap!"

At Bury Street, they found Gyp's agitated parlour-maid. Going to do the
music-room that morning, she had "found the master sitting on the sofa,
holding his head, and groaning awful. He's not been at home, ma'am,
since you--you went on your visit, so I didn't know what to do. I ran
for cook and we got him up to bed, and not knowing where you'd be, ma'am,
I telephoned to Count Rosek, and he came--I hope I didn't do wrong--and
he sent me down to see you. The doctor says his brain's on the touch and
go, and he keeps askin' for you, ma'am. So I didn't know what to do."

Gyp, pale to the lips, said:

"Wait here a minute, Ellen," and went into the dining-room. Winton
followed. She turned to him at once, and said:

"Oh, Dad, what am I to do? His brain! It would be too awful to feel I'd
brought that about."

Winton grunted. Gyp went on:

"I must go and see. If it's really that, I couldn't bear it. I'm afraid
I must go, Dad."

Winton nodded.

"Well, I'll come too," he said. "The girl can go back in the cab and say
we're on the way."

Taking a parting look at her baby, Gyp thought bitterly: 'My fate? THIS
is my fate, and no getting out of it!' On the journey, she and Winton
were quite silent--but she held his hand tight. While the cook was
taking up to Rosek the news of their arrival, Gyp stood looking out at
her garden. Two days and six hours only since she had stood there above
her pansies; since, at this very spot, Rosek had kissed her throat!
Slipping her hand through Winton's arm, she said:

"Dad, please don't make anything of that kiss. He couldn't help himself,
I suppose. What does it matter, too?"

A moment later Rosek entered. Before she could speak, Winton was saying:

"Thank you for letting us know, sir. But now that my daughter is here,
there will be no further need for your kind services. Good-day!"

At the cruel curtness of those words, Gyp gave the tiniest start forward.
She had seen them go through Rosek's armour as a sword through brown
paper. He recovered himself with a sickly smile, bowed, and went out.
Winton followed--precisely as if he did not trust him with the hats in
the hall. When the outer door was shut, he said:

"I don't think he'll t