ection, but looked a little displeased, and was
silent through the meal.

They travelled by rail to Edgware Road, exchanging scarce a word on the
way. On the stairs of the Mansions, Alma found the ascent too much for
her; she stopped, and put out a hand to support herself. Rolfe looked
round.

'Nothing. You have made me walk rather quickly.'

'I'm sorry. Rest a moment.'

But Alma hastened upwards.

They were shown at once into the drawing-room, where Mrs. Carnaby, who
was sitting alone, rose at the announcement of their names. Alma
stepped forwards, and seemed about to offer her hand, but she was
disregarded. Their hostess stood with her eyes on Rolfe, who, observing
the strangeness of this reception, bowed and said nothing.

'It was I who sent the telegram, Mr. Rolfe.' Sibyl's voice had its
wonted refinement, and hardly disturbed the silence. 'My husband would
have postponed the pleasure of seeing you, but I thought it better you
should meet him at once.' Her finger touched an electric bell. 'And I
particularly wished Mrs. Rolfe to be with you; I am so glad she was
able to come. Pray sit down.'

Harvey, with no thought of accepting this invitation, cast stern
glances at the speaker and at his wife.

'What does all this mean, Mrs. Carnaby?'

'Your old friend will tell you.'

The door had opened, and Hugh Carnaby slouched in. At the sight of Alma
he stood still. Then meeting Harvey's eyes, he exclaimed, with hoarse
indistinctness, 'Rolfe!' Each advanced, and their hands clasped.

'Rolfe!--old fellow!--I'm the most miserable devil on earth.'

Tears were in his eyes and in his voice. He held Harvey's hand tight
prisoned in both his own, and stood tottering like a feeble old man.
'Old friend, I can't help myself--don't feel hard against me--I have to
tell you something.'

He looked towards Alma, who was motionless. Sibyl had sat down, and
watched as at a play, but with no smile.

'Come into the next room with me,' added the choking voice.

'No. Here, if you please, Hugh,' sounded with gentle firmness.

'Sibyl--then tell it. I can't.'

'It's a simple story, Mr. Rolfe,' began Sibyl. 'I am sure you are not
aware that Mrs. Rolfe, ever since our great misfortune, has lost no
opportunity of slandering me. She has told people, in plain words, that
she knew me to be guilty of what my husband was for a moment trapped
into suspecting. Among others, she told it to her friend Miss Leach.
Not long ago, she went so