order without question. Her colour, and the heaving of
that billowy bosom made Winton add quickly:

"Now, Betty, pull yourself together; Gyp wants you. I'll tell you all
about it in the cab."

The poor woman, still heaving vaguely, could only stammer:

"Yes, sir. Poor little thing! What about its night-things? And Miss
Gyp's?"

Conscious of that figure still at the window, Winton made some passes
with his fingers at the baby, and said:

"Never mind them. As soon as you see me at the drawing-room window,
get ready and go. Eyes front, Betty; don't look round; I'll cover your
retreat! Don't fail Gyp now. Pull yourself together."

With a sigh that could have been heard in Kensington, Betty murmured:
"Very well, sir; oh dear!" and began to adjust the strings of her
bonnet. With nods, as if he had been the recipient of some sage remarks
about the baby, Winton saluted, and began his march again towards
the house. He carefully kept his eyes to this side and to that, as if
examining the flowers, but noted all the same that Fiorsen had receded
from the window. Rapid thought told him that the fellow would come back
there to see if he were gone, and he placed himself before a rose-bush,
where, at that reappearance, he could make a sign of recognition. Sure
enough, he came; and Winton quietly raising his hand to the salute
passed on through the drawing-room window. He went quickly into the
hall, listened a second, and opened the dining-room door. Fiorsen was
pacing up and down, pale and restless. He came to a standstill and
stared haggardly at Winton, who said:

"How are you? Gyp not in?"

"No."

Something in the sound of that "No" touched Winton with a vague--a very
vague--compunction. To be left by Gyp! Then his heart hardened again.
The fellow was a rotter--he was sure of it, had always been sure.

"Baby looks well," he said.

Fiorsen turned and began to pace up and down again.

"Where is Gyp? I want her to come in. I want her."

Winton took out his watch.

"It's not late." And suddenly he felt a great aversion for the part he
was playing. To get the baby; to make Gyp safe--yes! But, somehow, not
this pretence that he knew nothing about it. He turned on his heel and
walked out. It imperilled everything; but he couldn't help it. He could
not stay and go on prevaricating like this. Had that woman got clear? He
went back into the drawing-room. There they were--just passing the side
of the house. Five minutes, and