rother--"was that the name of the man who--you
don't mean it was Dr. Anstice who ... who...."

He nodded.

"Yes. I see you've grasped the truth. Anstice is an uncommon name, and
I'm surprised you did not recognize it earlier."

"I had forgotten it." She stared at him, her blue eyes narrowing as her
mind worked quickly. "I see now. Dr. Anstice is the man----"

"Who shot Hilda Ryder." Cheniston finished her sentence for her calmly,
but she saw him whiten beneath his tan. "Yes. He is the man all right.
We met, once, in Bombay--afterwards. And now you know why our meeting
to-night was not calculated to give either of us any great pleasure."

"Yes. I know now." She spoke slowly, almost meditatively. "And I know,
too, why he always looks so sad. Bruce, from the bottom of my heart I
pity that man."

"You do?" Bruce's eyebrows rose. "I confess I don't see why you should
waste your pity on him. I think you might bestow a little more of it on
me--though it is rather late for pity now."

"On you?" Slowly her blue gaze rested on his face. "Bruce, you don't
compare your position with his? Surely even you can understand that he
is a thousand times more to be pitied than you? I always thought there
was a tragedy in Dr. Anstice's life. But I never dreamed it was quite so
piteous as this."

Bruce uttered an exclamation of impatience.

"I didn't expect such sentimentality from you, Chloe. I gathered from
your conversation before dinner that you were pretty well disillusioned
by this time, and it rather surprises me to hear you pouring out your
compassion on a man like Anstice, who certainly doesn't strike me as
requiring any outside sympathy."

For a moment there was silence, while Chloe played absently with a
bracelet she had just discarded. Then she said tranquilly:

"You never were overburdened with brains, Bruce, though I grant you do
well in your own profession. But, if you fail to see the reason why Dr.
Anstice is deserving of more compassion than you I'm afraid it's
hopeless to expect anything very brilliant from you in the future."

Cheniston's eyes darkened and his jaw set itself aggressively. For a
moment his sister found him an unfamiliar personality, and in her own
indifferent way asked herself whether after all she had ever known her
brother thoroughly.

Then as she was considering the problem, and finding it mildly
attractive, Bruce turned on his heel and strode sulkily to the door.

"Good night," he said a