his share in the
tragedy that had affected her so deeply. He trusted to time to soften the
painful impression, and meanwhile, with his habitual patience, he set
himself to wait till the physical strain had passed and the very
sweetness of her nature should bring her back to him. He knew that all
Bertrand's influence would be exercised in this direction, and his faith
in his young secretary's discretion was considerable. Their brief
conversation on the night of the disaster had rooted it more firmly than
ever. Bertrand was so essentially a man of honour that he trusted him in
all things as he trusted himself. Their code was the same, and their
friendship of the kind that endures for life. If there were one thing on
earth before all others upon which Trevor Mordaunt would have staked his
all, it was this Frenchman's loyalty to himself. He was as staunch as
Chris's brothers were unstable. He believed him to be utterly incapable
of so much as an underhand impulse. And he was content that Chris should
have for friend this man who was so close a friend of his own, upon whose
nobility of character he had come to rely as a power for good that could
not fail to raise her ideals and deepen in her that sense of honour which
was still scarcely more than an undeveloped instinct in her soul.

His eyes followed Rupert's to the open window. The sound of chaffing
voices rose clearly on the summer air, mingled with the chink of
tea-cups.

"Shall we go?" Mordaunt said.

Rupert looked round with a laugh. "Did you see that ass Murphy stand on
his head to drink his tea? It's his pet accomplishment. Yes, all right;
let's go."

He got up, glanced at the whisky-and-soda on the table, then impulsively
linked his arm in that of his brother-in-law, all his sullenness gone
like a storm-cloud.

"You're quite right, old fellow. I have had as much of that stuff as is
good for me. Forgive me for being such a bear. I didn't mean it."

Mordaunt paused. He had never dealt with anyone quite so bewilderingly
changeable before. "I wish I knew how to treat you," he said, after a
moment.

"Oh, pitch into me! It's the only way." Rupert's smile flashed suddenly
upon him. "I've been an ungrateful brute, and I'm ashamed of myself.
Seriously, Trevor, I'm sorry. I sometimes think to myself it's downright
disgusting the way we all sponge on you. It's deuced good of you to put
up with it."

Mordaunt still regarded him with close attention. But there was no d