s of no consequence, then, that the servants are already gossiping
about this impossible Dr Ferguson; that you are certain to be seen
either going or returning; that Alice is bound to discover that you are
well enough to go out, and yet not even enough to say good-night to your
own daughter--oh, it's monstrous, it's a frantic, a heartless thing to
do!' Her voice vaguely suggested tears.

Lawford eyed her coldly and stubbornly--thinking of the empty room
he would leave awaiting his return, its lamp burning, its fire-flames
shining. It was almost a physical discomfort, this longing unspeakable
for the twilight, the green secrecy and the silence of the graves. 'Keep
them out of the way,' he said in a low voice; 'it will be dark when I
come in.' His hardened face lit up. 'It's useless to attempt to dissuade
me.'

'Why must you always be hurting me? why do you seem to delight in trying
to estrange me?' Husband and wife faced each other across the clear-lit
room. He did not answer.

'For the last time,' she said in a quiet, hard voice, 'I ask you not to
go.'

He shrugged his shoulders. 'Ask me not to come back,' he said; 'that's
nearer your hope.' He turned his face to the fire. Without moving
he heard her go out, return, pause, and go out again. And when he
deliberately wheeled round in his chair the little key lay conspicuous
there on the counterpane.

CHAPTER NINE

The last light of sunset lay in the west; and a sullen wrack of cloud
was mounting into the windless sky when Lawford entered the country
graveyard again by its dark weather-worn lych-gate. The old stone church
with its square tower stood amid trees, its eastern window faintly aglow
with crimson and purple. He could hear a steady, rather nasal voice
through its open lattices. But the stooping stones and the cypresses
were out of sight of its porch. He would not be seen down there. He
paused a moment, however; his hat was drawn down over his eyes; he was
shivering. Far over the harvest fields showed a growing pallor in
the solitary seat beneath the cypresses. He stood hesitating, gazing
steadily and yet half vacantly at the motionless figure, and in a while
a face was lifted in his direction, and undisconcerted eyes calmly
surveyed him.

'I am afraid,' called Lawford rather nervously--'I hope I am not
intruding?'

'Not at all, not at all,' said the stranger. 'I have no privileges here;
at least as yet.'

Lawford again hesitated, then slowly advan