d pew
on Sunday morning. Edith, he informed me, had gone to church; he
himself, being as nervous as a cat, had funked it; he was afraid lest
he might get up in the middle of the sermon and curse the Vicar.

"If that's so," said I, "come round here and talk sense. I've something
important to say to you."

He agreed and shortly afterwards he arrived. I was shocked to see him.
His ruddy face had yellowed and the firm flesh had loosened and sagged.
I had never noticed that his stubbly hair was so grey. He could
scarcely sit still on the chair by my bedside.

I told him of Cliffe's suspicions. We were a pair of conspirators with
unavowable things on our minds which were driving us to nervous
catastrophe. Edith, said I, was more suspicious even than Cliffe. I
also told him of our talk about the projected dinner party.

"That," he declared, "would drive me stark, staring mad."

"So will continuing to hide the truth from Edith," said I. "How do you
suppose you can carry on like this?"

He grew angry. How could he tell Edith? How could he make her
understand his reason for welcoming Boyce? How could he prevent her
from blazing the truth abroad and crying aloud for vengeance? What kind
of a fool's counsel was I giving him?

I let him talk, until, tired with reiteration, he had nothing more to
say. Then I made him listen to me while I expounded that which was
familiar to his obstinate mind--namely, the heroic qualities of his own
wife.

"It comes to this," said I, by way of peroration, "that you're afraid
of Edith letting you down, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself."

At that he flared out again. How dared I, he asked, eating his words,
suggest that he did not trust the most splendid woman God had ever
made? Didn't I see that he was only trying to shield her from knowledge
that might kill her? I retorted by pointing out that worry over his
insane behaviour--please remember that above our deep unchangeable
mutual affection, a violent surface quarrel was raging--would more
surely and swiftly kill her than unhappy knowledge. Her quick
brain--had already connected Gedge, Boyce, and his present condition as
the main factors of some strange problem. "Her quick brain!" I cried.
"A half idiot child would have put things together."

Presently he collapsed, sitting hopelessly, nervelessly in his chair.
At last he lifted a piteously humble face.

"What would you suggest my doing, Duncan?"

There seemed to me to be only o