er. The whole train of
divination was perfect in his mind before Elgar spoke.

"It is nothing to the purpose who told me. My wife was here for a long
time, and when she went away, you accompanied her."

"I understand."

"That is more than I do. Will you please to explain it?"

"You are accurately informed. Mrs. Elgar came here, naturally enough,
to ask if I knew what had become of you."

"And why should she come to _you_?"

"Because my letter to you lay open somewhere in your house, and she
thought it possible we had been together."

Elgar reflected. Yes, he remembered that the letter was left on his
table.

"And where did she go afterwards? Where did you conduct her?"

"I went rather more than half-way home with her, in the cab" replied
Mallard, somewhat doggedly. "I supposed she was going on to Belsize
Park."

"Then you know nothing of her reason for not doing so?"

"Nothing whatever."

Elgar became silent. The artist, after moving about quietly, turned to
question him with black brows.

"Hasn't it occurred to you that she may have joined Mrs. Lessingham in
the country?"

"She has taken nothing--not even a travelling-bag."

"You come, of course, from the Spences' house?"

Elgar replied with an affirmative. As soon as he had done so, he
remembered that this was as much as corroborating Mallard's conjecture
with regard to Miriam; but for that he cared little. He had begun to
discern something odd in the relations between Miriam and Mallard, and
suspected that Cecily might in some way be the cause of it.

"Did they not at once suggest that she was with Mrs. Lessingham?"

Elgar muttered a "No," averting his face.

"What _did_ they suggest, then?"

"I saw only my sister," said Reuben, irritably.

"And your sister thought I was the most likely person to know of Mrs.
Elgar's whereabouts?"

"Yes, she did."

"I am sorry to disappoint you," said Mallard, coldly. "I have given you
all the information I can."

"All you _will_," replied Elgar, whose temper was exasperated by the
firmness with which he was held at a scornful distance. He began now to
imagine that Mallard, from reasons of disinterested friendship, had
advised Cecily to seek some retreat, and would not disclose the secret.
More than that, he still found incredible.

Mallard eyed him scornfully.

"I said 'all I _can_,' and I don't deal in double meanings. I know
nothing more than I have told you. You are probably unaccustomed, of
la