fore."

"But naturally," Bertrand said. He handed the glass back with a courteous
gesture of thanks. "And I have not had cause to regret it. I will tell
you why I disagreed with Mr. Mordaunt if you desire to know. It was
because he found that he had been robbed, and that I"--he spread out
his hands--"was the robber."

Max stared. "Found that you had robbed him! You!"

Bertrand nodded several times, but said no more.

"I don't believe it," Max said with conviction.

Bertrand smiled rather ruefully. "No? But yet the evidence was against
me. And me, I did not contradict the evidence."

"I see. You were shielding someone. Who was it? Rupert?"

At Bertrand's quick start Max also smiled with grim humour. "You see, I
know my own people rather well. I'm glad it wasn't Chris, anyway. Then
she had nothing at all to do with your quarrel with Trevor?"

"Nothing," Bertrand said--"nothing." He paused a moment, then added, with
something of an effort, "But I had decided that I would go before that.
Mr. Mordaunt did not know why."

"Because of Chris?" There was a touch of sharpness in Max's voice.

Bertrand bent his head. "You were right that night. A man cannot hope to
hide his heart for ever from the woman whom he loves."

"You told her, then?"

"It arrived without telling," Bertrand answered with simplicity.

"That means she cares for you?" Max said shrewdly.

Bertrand looked up. "_Mais c'est passe_," he said, his voice very low.
"You have guessed the truth, but you only know it. Her husband--"

"My dear fellow, that's just the mischief. He knows it too," Max said.

"He!" Bertrand started upright.

Instantly Max's hand was upon him, checking him. "Keep still, Bertrand!
You can't afford to waste your strength. Yes, Trevor knows. He knew on
the very day you left. He found out that that blackguard Rodolphe had
been blackmailing her. He had a scene with Chris, and she left him."

"Rodolphe! _Le canaille! Est-ce possible? Alors_, she is not--not with
him--at Valpre--as I thought?" gasped Bertrand.

"No. She has not been near him since. I knew nothing of this till to-day.
She hardly ever writes. I thought--as you did--that she had gone to
France with Trevor. Instead of that, Jack tells me, she has been with his
sister in Yorkshire all this time. She has been ill, is so still, I
believe. They are coming to town to-morrow, to Percy Davenant's flat.
Jack is very worried about it. He saw Trevor before he left England, but