the
darkness of the night. "It will be interesting to hear the whole story.
The events are plain enough--but the question of motive is still a
puzzling one."

"Quite so. And yet the affair will probably turn out simple, after all.
Well, I mustn't keep you if you want to be off. Good night
again--and"--the sincerity in his voice was pleasant to hear--"a
thousand thanks for the part you have played in the unravelling of this
tangle."

"Good-night. Don't let Mrs. Carstairs exhaust herself looking after the
woman, will you? She is splendid, I know, but----"

"I'll go and join her in a moment," returned Carstairs quietly. "I'm an
old campaigner, you know, and I'll see to it that she is properly
fortified for the vigil--if she insists upon it."

And as he looked into the soldier's square-featured face, the honest
eyes agleam with love for the woman he had been fool enough to doubt,
Anstice felt instinctively that Chloe Carstairs' ship had come at last
to a safe anchorage, that the barque which had so narrowly escaped
complete shipwreck on the rock of a terrible catastrophe was now safely
at rest in the haven where it would be.

CHAPTER VIII

"Well, Chloe, you have discovered the truth at last?"

It was evening again--early evening this time; and Major Carstairs and
Anstice were sitting in Chloe's black-and-white room eagerly waiting for
the promised elucidation of the mystery which had so nearly ruined two
lives.

Chloe herself, sitting in a corner of the chintz-covered couch, looked,
in spite of the strenuous hours through which she had passed, the
embodiment of youth and radiant happiness.

In all his life Anstice had never seen so striking a testimony to the
power of soul over body as in this rejuvenation, this new birth, as it
were, which had taken place under his eyes.

The whole woman was transformed. The classic features had lost their
slight austerity of outline, the sapphire-blue eyes were no longer cold
and indifferent, but danced bewitchingly in the softly-tinted face. The
lips whose corners had been prone to droop were now curved into the
tenderest, gayest smiles; and as Anstice looked at her he was reminded
of the old story of the marble statue, whose frozen rigidity was warmed
into life by the magic of the sculptor's kiss.

And as he gazed, secretly, on this miracle which had been performed
before his eyes Anstice realized a truth which hitherto he had not
suspected. Although her manner i