that
appearance of low-bred jauntiness which used to belong to him seemed
to have been washed out of him. His hair had forgotten to curl,
his gloves had been thrown aside, and even his trinkets were out
of sight. "What has happened," said Conway. "What is the matter?
Something is wrong." Then it occurred to him that Musselboro had been
sent to the house to tell the wife of the husband's ruin.

"The servant told me that I should find you upstairs," said
Musselboro.

"Yes; I have been painting here. For some time past I have been doing
a picture of Miss Van Siever. Mrs. Van Siever has been here to-day."
Conway thought that this information would produce some strong effect
on Clara's proposed husband; but he did not seem to regard the matter
of the picture nor the mention of Miss Van Siever's name.

"She knows nothing of it?" said he. "She doesn't know yet?"

"Know what?" said Conway. "She knows that her husband has lost
money."

"Dobbs has--destroyed himself."

"What!"

"Blew his brains out this morning just inside the entrance at Hook
Court. The horror of drink was on him, and he stood just in the
pathway and shot himself. Bangles was standing at the top of their
vaults and saw him do it. I don't think Bangles will ever be a man
again. Oh lord! I shall never get over it myself. The body was there
when I went in." Then Musselboro sank back against the wall of the
staircase, and stared at Dalrymple as though he still saw before him
the terrible sight of which he had just spoken.

Dalrymple seated himself on the stairs and strove to bring his mind
to bear on the tale which he had just heard. What was he to do, and
how was that poor woman upstairs to be informed? "You came here
intending to tell her," he said in a whisper. He feared every moment
that Mrs. Broughton would appear on the stairs, and learn from a word
or two what had happened without any hint to prepare her for the
catastrophe.

"I thought you would be here. I knew you were doing the picture. He
knew it. He'd a letter to say so,--one of those anonymous ones."

"But that didn't influence him?"

"I don't think it was that," said Musselboro. "He meant to have had
it out with her; but it wasn't that as brought this about. Perhaps
you didn't know that he was clean ruined?"

"She had told me."

"Then she knew it?"

"Oh, yes; she knew that. Mrs. Van Siever had told her. Poor creature!
How are we to break this to her?"

"You and she are very thick,