d by Sir Hugh's manner that he regretted his recent action and
was now overcome by remorse. Remorse meant exposure, and exposure meant
prosecution--a great public prosecution, which, at all hazards, must not
be allowed.

As he sat there he was actually calmly wondering whether this fine old
officer with such a brilliant record would die in silence by his own hand
and carry his secret to the grave, or whether he would leave behind some
awkward written statement which would incriminate himself and those for
whom he acted.

Suddenly Sir Hugh turned and, looking the doctor squarely in the face as
though divining his inmost thoughts, said in a hoarse voice tremulous
with emotion: "Ah, you need not trouble yourself further, Weirmarsh. I
have a big dinner-party to-night, but by midnight I shall have paid the
penalty which you have imposed upon me--I shall have ceased to live. I
will die rather then serve you further!"

"Very well, my dear sir," replied the doctor, rising from his chair
abruptly. "Of course, every man's life is his own property--you can take
it if you think fit--but I assure you that such an event would not
concern me in the least. I have already taken the precaution to appear
with clean hands--should occasion require."

CHAPTER V

IN WHICH ENID ORLEBAR IS PUZZLED

THAT night, around the general's dinner-table in Hill Street, a dozen or
so well-known men and women were assembled.

Sir Hugh Elcombe's dinners were always smart gatherings. The table was
set with Georgian silver and decorated daintily with flowers, while
several of the women wore splendid jewels. At the head sat Lady Elcombe,
a quiet, rather fragile, calm-faced woman in black, whose countenance
bore traces of long suffering, but whose smile was very sweet.

Among the guests was Walter Fetherston, whom the general had at last
induced to visit him, and he had taken in Enid, who looked superb in a
cream decollete gown, and who wore round her throat a necklet of
turquoise matrices, admirably suited to her half-barbaric beauty.

Fetherston had only accepted the general's invitation at her urgent
desire, for she had written to White's telling him that it was imperative
they should meet--she wished to consult him; she begged of him to forget
the interview at Monifieth and return to her.

So, against his will, he had gone there, though the house and all it
contained was hateful to him. With that terrible secret locked within his
heart--