ame is an uncommon one, and because"--he turned
to Major Lane--"isn't she said to be an extraordinarily pretty
woman?"

As the last words were being uttered, an odd thing happened. Thomas
Carden suddenly dropped the cup he was holding in his hand; it rang
against the brass fender and broke in several pieces, while the spoon
went clattering into the fireplace.

"Father!" exclaimed Theodore, and then quickly he added, "Don't
trouble to do that," for the old man was stooping over the rug and
fumbling with the broken pieces. But Thomas Carden shook his head; it
was evident that he was, for the moment, physically incapable of
speech.

A great fear came into the son's mind; he turned to Major Lane and
muttered in an urgent, agonised whisper, "Is it--can it be a seizure?
Hadn't I better go and try to find Dr. Curle?" But the other, with a
dubious expression on his face, shook his head. "No," he said; "it's
nothing of the kind. Your father's getting older, Carden, as we all
are, and I've had to speak to him to-day about a very disagreeable
matter." He looked fixedly, probingly, at the young man, but again
Theodore showed no sign of having understood. "I think it's thoroughly
upset him." The speaker hesitated, and then added: "I daresay he'll
tell you about it; in any case, I'd better go now and come back later.
If you can spare me half an hour this evening, I should like to have a
talk with you."

During the last few moments Major Lane had made up his mind to take a
certain course, even to run a certain risk, and that not for the first
time that day, for he had already set his own intimate knowledge of
the life-long friend whose condition now wrung him with pity against
what was, perhaps, his official duty.

Some two hours before, the Head Constable had entered the house, where
he had been so constantly and so hospitably entertained, with the firm
conviction that Theodore Carden had been the catspaw of a clever,
unscrupulous woman; in fact, that there had come a repetition, but a
hundred times more serious, of that now half-forgotten entanglement
which had so nearly brought Carden to grief some seven or eight years
before. Once more he had come prepared to do his best to save his
friend's son, so far as might be possible, from the consequences of
his folly.

But now? Ah, now, the experienced, alert official had to admit to
himself that the incidents of the last ten minutes had completely
altered his view of the matter.