," said Billy. "It is not a pretty story. But I
can give you details, if you like."

"I think you had better give me details," said Sir Deryck, gravely.

So, with white lips, Billy gave them.

The doctor rose, buttoning his coat. Then he poured out a glass of water
and handed it to Billy.

"Come," he said. "Fortunately I know a very cute detective from our own
London force who happens just now to be in Cairo. We must go to Scotland
Yard for his address, and a code. In fact we had better work it through
them. You have done the right thing, Billy; and done it promptly; but we
have no time to lose."

* * * * *

Twenty-four hours later, the doctor called at Shenstone Park. He had
telegraphed his train requesting to be met by the motor; and he now asked
the chauffeur to wait at the door, in order to take him back to the
station.

"I could only come between trains," he explained to Lady Ingleby, "so you
must forgive the short notice, and the peremptory tone of my telegram. I
could not risk missing you. I have something of great importance to
communicate."

The doctor waited a moment, hardly knowing how to proceed. He had seen
Myra Ingleby under many varying conditions. He knew her well; and she was
a woman so invariably true to herself, that he expected to be able to
foresee exactly how she would act under any given combination of
circumstances.

In this undreamed of development of Lord Ingleby's return, he anticipated
finding her gently acquiescent; eagerly ready to resume again the duties
of wifehood; with no thought of herself, but filled with anxious desire
in all things to please the man who, with his whims and fancies, his
foibles and ideas, had for nine months passed completely out of her life.
Deryck Brand had expected to find Lady Ingleby in the mood of a typical
April day, sunshine and showers rapidly alternating; whimsical smiles,
succeeded by ready tears; then, with lashes still wet, gay laughter at
some mistake of her own, or at incongruous behaviour on the part of her
devoted but erratic household; speedily followed by pathetic anxiety over
her own supposed short-comings in view of Lord Ingleby's requirements on
his return.

Instead of this charming personification of unselfish, inconsequent,
tender femininity, the doctor found himself confronted by a calm cold
woman, with hard unseeing eyes; a woman in whom something had died; and
dying, had slain all the b