orne's chambers.

There was a long delay, and Max, after a second knock, was going to
withdraw, in the belief that Dudley was not in, after all, when he heard
slow steps within, and paused.

The door was opened a very little way, and Dudley looked out.

Max stared at him for a moment without speaking. For over his friend
there had passed some great change. Dudley had never been florid of
complexion, but now he looked ghastly. His face had always been grave
and strong rather than cheerful, but now the expression of his
countenance was forbidding.

He looked at Max, glanced down the stairs, and nodded without a smile.

"Hello!" said he, with the letter of familiarity, but without its
spirit. "Haven't seen anything of you for a century. Up in town again,
eh?"

"Yes. Can't I come in?" said Max.

Dudley had come outside instead of inviting his friend in. At these
words, however, he turned abruptly, and himself led the way into the
little ante-chamber.

"Oh, yes, oh, yes, come in, of course. Come in."

Max accepted the cool invitation in silence, shut the door behind him,
and followed his friend into the sitting-room, where the table was laid
for a solitary dinner.

But it was the writing-table which caught the eye of Max and riveted his
attention. For a photograph lay there, a woman's photograph, and as it
was just in front of the chair Dudley had been using, as if he had been
occupied in looking at it, it was not unnatural that the brother of
Doreen should be curious to know whose picture it was.

So Max got around the table quickly by the opposite way to that which
Dudley took, and threw himself into a chair by the writing-table in such
a position that he could see what was on it. And he saw two things: One
was that the photograph was that of Doreen; the other that a postal
order for one pound, which lay beside the photograph, and upon which the
ink was not yet dry, was made out to "Mrs. Edward Jacobs."

Max felt himself blushing as Dudley snatched up the postal orders--there
were two of them--and slip them into an envelope. Then the eyes of the
two men met. And Dudley knew what Max had seen.

He seemed to hesitate a moment, then glanced at Max again, sat down to
the writing-table, and took up a pen. As he directed the letter, he said
quietly:

"Do you know whom I'm sending this money to?"

"Well, I did catch sight of the name," stammered Max, unable to hide the
fact that the question was an embarrassing