the lady at home. Once, and once only, did he break
down. On the Wednesday evening he met Barrington Erle, and was asked
by him to go to The Universe. At the moment he became very pale, but
he at once said that he would go. Had Erle carried him off in a cab
the adventure might have been successful; but as they walked, and as
they went together through Clarges Street and Bolton Row and Curzon
Street, and as the scenes which had been so frequently and so
graphically described in Court appeared before him one after another,
his heart gave way, and he couldn't do it. "I know I'm a fool,
Barrington; but if you don't mind I'll go home. Don't mind me, but
just go on." Then he turned and walked home, passing through the
passage in which the murder had been committed.

"I brought him as far as the next street," Barrington Erle said to
one of their friends at the club, "but I couldn't get him in. I doubt
if he'll ever be here again."

It was past six o'clock in the evening when he reached Matching
Priory. The Duchess had especially assured him that a brougham should
be waiting for him at the nearest station, and on arriving there he
found that he had the brougham to himself. He had thought a great
deal about it, and had endeavoured to make his calculations. He knew
that Madame Goesler would be at Matching, and it would be necessary
that he should say something of his thankfulness at their first
meeting. But how should he meet her,--and in what way should he
greet her when they met? Would any arrangement be made, or would all
be left to chance? Should he go at once to his own chamber,--so as
to show himself first when dressed for dinner, or should he allow
himself to be taken into any of the morning rooms in which the other
guests would be congregated? He had certainly not sufficiently
considered the character of the Duchess when he imagined that she
would allow these things to arrange themselves. She was one of those
women whose minds were always engaged on such matters, and who are
able to see how things will go. It must not be asserted of her
that her delicacy was untainted, or her taste perfect; but she was
clever,--discreet in the midst of indiscretions,--thoughtful, and
good-natured. She had considered it all, arranged it all, and given
her orders with accuracy. When Phineas entered the hall,--the
brougham with the luggage having been taken round to some back
door,--he was at once ushered by a silent man in black into the