trying to throw anything away, I was fetching that water for Miss Rowe.
I remembered there was none in my room----"

"And why were you sure there was some here? No, Therese, that's not
good enough. Here, we can't go into the matter now while Miss Rowe's
life is in danger, but for all that the thing has got to be talked out.
Listen to me: I want you to go to your room and remain there quietly
until that girl is sufficiently recovered to tell me what she knows.
Until then no one can decide whether it is all nonsense or not. Come,
please. I insist on it."

Anger flamed in her eyes.

"I am to remain a prisoner in my own house! You are raving!"

"I am perfectly serious, Therese; you have brought it on yourself.
Don't argue. If you refuse you will force me to communicate with ...
the police."

She looked at him as she had done once before, all the venom of her
hate concentrated in her eyes.

"Do you know what you are saying to me?" she whispered between dry
lips. "Do you realise what this means?"

"I do. I have no wish to make this affair public, any more than you
have. Just as long as there remains the possibility of all this
originating in Miss Rowe's imagination, I shall do nothing unless you
compel me to. Come now, what I suggest is in your own interests. If
there's nothing in all this, you are at liberty to bring a suit against
me for libel or anything else you can think of."

After a moment's thought she bowed her head very slightly. He moved
away from the door and let her precede him. As he passed through his
bedroom he put his hand inside the top drawer of his dressing-table
and, feeling half ashamed, slipped something he had not used since the
war into his pocket.... Was the whole thing a monstrous mare's nest?
Was he going to despise himself later on?

With a mind full of doubt he followed the slender black-clad figure out
into the hall.

"The other door, please," he ordered, feeling uncomfortably a brute, as
she was about to go through the boudoir.

With a slight shrug she walked on and entered her own bedroom, closing
the door behind her. He hesitated, then opened the door again,
transferred the key to the outside, and turned it in the lock. He was
putting the key in his pocket, with a rather guilty feeling, when
Chalmers approached him.

"I may have done wrong, sir," he whispered; "if so I am willing to
suffer for it. I followed my instinct, sir, if you understand what I
mean, and