g awake for me?" he said. "I am
sorry."

"Something is the matter," she said with conviction. "Won't you tell me
what it is? I--I would rather know."

"I will tell you in the morning, dear," he said gently. "You must go back
to bed. I am coming myself now."

But Chris stood still. "I want to know now, please, Trevor," she said. "I
shall not sleep at all unless I know."

He put his arm about her, looking down at her with great tenderness.
"Must I tell you now?" he said, a hint of weariness in his voice.

She did not resist his touch, but neither did she yield herself to him.
She stood within the encircling arm, looking straight up at him with
wide, resolute eyes.

"It is something to do with Bertie," she said, in the same tone of
unquestioning conviction.

He raised his eyebrows. "What makes you think so?"

She frowned a little. "It doesn't matter, does it? Won't you tell me what
has happened?"

He hesitated momentarily; then; "Yes, I will tell you," he said.
"Bertrand is leaving to-morrow--for good."

He felt her stiffen against his arm, and for the first time he noticed
her pallor and the unusual steadfastness of her eyes. He realized that
she was putting strong restraint upon herself, and the fact made her
strangely unfamiliar to him. He was accustomed to vivid speech and
impetuous action. He scarcely knew her in this mood, although he
recognized that he had seen it at least once before.

"Why?" Her lips scarcely moved as they asked the question. Her eyes never
left his face.

He drew her to the writing-table on which his cheque-book still lay open
at the place whence a cheque had been abstracted with its counterfoil.

"Sit down," he said, "and I will tell you."

She sat down in silence.

He knelt beside her as he had knelt on their wedding-night, and took her
cold hands into his own.

"I think you know," he said quietly, "that I have always trusted Bertrand
implicitly."

"You trust everyone," she said, with a small, aloof smile, as if she were
trying to appear courteous while her thoughts were elsewhere.

"Yes, to my undoing," he told her grimly. "I trusted him to the utmost,
and--and he has betrayed my trust."

She started at that, but instantly controlled herself. "In what way?" she
asked him, her voice scarcely above a whisper.

He drew the cheque-book to him. "If you look at this cheque and the
next," he said, "you will see that there is one missing. There has been a
cheque taken out."