tructions are peremptory
on the subject. If, after investigation, I considered the suspicion
against your husband as well founded, I was to request you to leave the
bank premises without delay."

"You believe my husband stole that money?"

"I believe your husband stole that money, Mrs. Eustace."

"You may live to change your opinion, Mr. Wallace. My husband is as
innocent as I am. He has acted precipitately, I admit, and more than
foolishly in going away as he has done; but that does not prove him
guilty."

"I am afraid I cannot discuss the question with you," Wallace replied
evenly. "I can only carry out my instructions. I have told you what they
are, and what my opinion is. I am sorry to inconvenience you, but I have
no alternative."

"Do you wish me to leave at once?"

"Scarcely to-night; but I must ask you to get away as soon as you can."

For a space there was silence.

"I would like to speak to Mr. Harding, if you don't mind," she said
presently.

"Then I will leave you, for I have been steadily travelling all last
night and to-day till I arrived here, and shall be glad to get to bed,"
Wallace answered. "Any arrangement you can make, Harding, to assist Mrs.
Eustace, I shall be pleased to hear about. You will quite understand,
Mrs. Eustace, that in asking you to vacate the premises the bank is
merely actuated by ordinary considerations and is in no way acting
vindictively or harshly."

She inclined her head slightly in response, but otherwise made no sign
as Wallace left the room.

For some time after he had gone she remained silent, Harding waiting for
her to speak. Raising her head, she looked him steadily in the face.

"I suppose I ought to call you Mr. Harding now," she began, "but I
can't, Fred, I can't."

"As you wish," he said.

There came another silence, the woman unable to trust herself to
continue, the man fearing to begin.

"How life mocks one," she said, half to herself. "Surely it is
punishment enough that I should have to turn to you in my distress,
humiliating enough even to satisfy your desire for retribution. I do not
blame you, Fred. I deserve it all. I treated you vilely."

"Is there any necessity to refer to that now?" he asked. "I told you the
curtain had been rung down for ever upon that. I have no wish either to
punish or humiliate you. I don't think that I have given you reason to
believe that I do. If you think there has been any reason, I can only
say you are mistake