er and above the feelings of graver moment. Mallard,
observing the signs of mental stress on Elgar's features, wondered to
what they were attributable. Was the fellow capable of suffering
remorse or shame to this degree? Or was it the outcome of that other
affair, sheer ignoble passion? Reuben, on his part, could not face the
artist's somewhat rigid self-possession without feeling rebuked and
abashed. The fact of Mallard's being here at this hour seemed all but a
disproval of what Miriam had hinted, and when he looked up again at the
rugged, saturnine, energetic countenance, and met the calmly austere
eyes, he felt how improbable it was that this man should be anything to
Cecily save a conscientious friend.

"I haven't come in answer to your invitation," Reuben began, glancing
uneasily at the pictures, and endeavouring to support an air of
self-respect. "Something less agreeable has brought me."

They had not shaken hands, nor did Mallard offer a seat.

"What may that be?" he asked.

"I believe you have seen my wife lately?"

"What of that?"

Mallard began to knit his brows anxiously. He put up one foot on a
chair, and rested his arm on his knee.

"Will you tell me when it was that you saw her?"

"If you will first explain why you come with such questions," returned
the other, quietly.

"She has not been home since yesterday; I think that is reason enough."

Mallard maintained his attitude for a few moments, but at length put
his foot to the ground again, and repeated the keen look he had cast at
the speaker as soon as that news was delivered.

"When did you yourself go home?" he asked gravely.

"Late last night."

Mallard pondered anxiously.

"Then," said he, "what leads you to believe that I have seen Mrs.
Elgar?"

"I don't merely believe; I know that you have."

Elgar felt himself oppressed by the artist's stern and authoritative
manner. He could not support his dignity; his limbs embarrassed him,
and he was conscious of looking like a man on his trial for ignoble
offences.

"How do you know?" came from Mallard, sharply.

"I have been told by some one who saw her come here yesterday, in the
late afternoon."

"I see. No doubt, Mrs. Baske?"

The certainty of this flashed upon Mallard. He had never seen Miriam
walk by, but on the instant he comprehended her doing so. It was even
possible, he thought, that, if she had not herself seen Cecily, some
one in her employment had made the espial for h