the
table went on with their stories, but Judge Bolitho evidently did not
listen. His mind was far away. His cigar had gone out, too, but he
did not seem conscious of it.

"I wonder what is in that letter?" asked a man of his neighbour, as he
watched the judge's face.

"Oh, there's no knowing. Fellows in Bolitho's position are always
getting queer missives."

"He looks mighty uncomfortable, anyhow."

The judge took a wineglass in his hand and began toying with it, but it
was evident that he did not know what he was doing.

"I say, Bolitho"--it was a county court judge who spoke to him--"Did
you notice that woman's face who fell down in a faint this morning? It
was positively ghastly when she looked at you."

Evidently Judge Bolitho did not hear. He took not the slightest notice
of the remark. He was still toying with the wineglass.

"I say, Bolitho, aren't you well?"

And still the judge's face was rigid, and his eyes had in them a fixed
far-away look. The other caught him by the sleeve.

"Aren't you well, Bolitho?"

The judge gave a great start.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Aren't you well? You look deathly pale. Have another glass of wine,
my dear fellow."

But the judge rose to his feet.

"No; I'm not very well," he said. "I think I must ask you to excuse
me."

By this time the attention of all present was drawn to him, and there
were general expressions of sympathy. But of these Judge Bolitho
seemed unconscious.

"Good-night, gentlemen," he said. "I am sorry to be obliged to leave
you, but I don't feel very well."

"There was something in that letter," was the general whisper.
"Something that disturbed him!"

But the fact was almost forgotten as soon as he had left the room.

The judge found his way to his own apartment.

"Where's Mary, I wonder?" he said. But Mary was nowhere visible. He
knocked at her bedroom door, but received no answer. He went into all
the rooms set apart for their use, but she was nowhere to be seen.

"She did not tell me she was going out, either," he reflected. But it
was evident he had very little interest in her whereabouts. He acted
more like a man in a dream than one in full possession of his
faculties. He threw himself into an arm-chair and again carefully read
the letter which had been sent to him. When he had finished, he looked
around the room as though he were afraid he were being watched.

"No; no one is here," he said. "No one knows