Perhaps after all it was a good thing that Nan was so detached from
material things. Before that burst of foolish talk provoked by the fog,
he had been speaking to her about a matter very interesting to
himself--something connected with his work, something, by the way, of
which he would not have thought of speaking to any other woman; but then
Mrs. Archdale, as Coxeter had good reason to know, was exceptionally
discreet.... She had evidently been very much interested in all he had
told her, and he had enjoyed the conversation.

Coxeter became dimly conscious of what it would mean to him to have Nan
to come back to when work, and the couple of hours he usually spent at
his club, were over. Perhaps if Nan were waiting for him, he would not
wish to stay as long as two hours at his club. But then of course he
would want Nan all to himself. Jealous? Certainly not. He was far too
sensible a man to feel jealous, but he would expect his wife to put him
first--a very long way in front of anybody else. It might be
old-fashioned, but he was that sort of man.

* * * * *

Coxeter's thoughts leapt back into the present with disagreeable
abruptness. Their Jewish fellow-traveller, the man who had thrust on
Mrs. Archdale such unseemly confidences, had got up. He was now heading
straight for the place where Mrs. Archdale was sitting.

Coxeter quickly decided that the fellow must not be allowed to bore Mrs.
Archdale. She was in his, Coxeter's, care to-night, and he alone had a
right to her interest and attention. So he got up and walked down the
saloon. To his surprise the other, on seeing him come near, stopped
dead. "I want to speak to you," he said in a low voice,
"Mr.--er--Coxeter."

Coxeter looked at him, surprised, then reminded himself that his full
name, "John Coxeter," was painted on his portmanteau. Also that Mrs.
Archdale had called him "Mr. Coxeter" at least once, when discussing
that life-saving toy. Still, sharp, observant fellows, Jews! One should
always be on one's guard with them. "Yes?" he said interrogatively.

"Well, Mr. Coxeter, I want to ask you to do me a little favour. The
truth is I've just made my will--only a few lines--and I want you to be
my second witness. I've no objection, none in the world, to your seeing
what I want you to witness."

He spoke very deliberately, as if he had prepared the form of words in
which he made his strange request, and as he spoke he held out