was concerned. At last the last haunting question came in a kind of
croak, as if only by a supreme effort could it be compelled to produce
itself for consideration.

'And Alice, Sheila?'

'Alice, dear, of course goes with ME.'

'You realise,' he stirred uneasily, `you realise it may be final.'

'My dear Arthur,' cried Sheila, 'it is surely, apart from mere delicacy,
a parental obligation to screen the poor child from the shock. Could she
be at such a time in any better keeping than her mother's? At present
she only vaguely guesses. To know definitely that her father, infinitely
worse than death, had--had--Oh, is it possible to realise anything in
this awful cloud? It would kill her outright.'

Lawford made no stir. The quietest of raps came at the door. 'The money
from the Bank, ma'am,' said a faint voice.

Sheila carefully opened the door a few inches. She laid the blue
envelope on the dressing-table at her husband's elbow. 'You had better
perhaps count it,' she said in a low voice--'forty in notes, the rest
in gold,' and narrowed her eyes beneath her veil upon her husband's very
peculiar method of forgetting his responsibilities.

'French?' she said with a nod. 'How very quaint.'

Lawford's eyes fell and rested gravely on the dingy page of Herbert's
mean-looking bundle of print. A queer feeling of cold crept over him.
'Yes,' he said vaguely, 'French,' and hopelessly failed to fill in the
silence that seemed like some rather sleek nocturnal creature quietly
waiting to be fed.

Sheila swept softly towards the door. 'Well, Arthur, I think that is
all. The servants will have gone by this evening. I have ordered a
carriage for half-past twelve. Perhaps you would first write down
anything that occurs to you to be necessary? Perhaps, too, it would be
better if Dr Simon were told that we shall not need him any more,
that you are thinking of a complete change of scene, a voyage. He is
obviously useless. Besides, Mr Bethany, I think, is going to discuss
a specialist with you. I have written him a little note, just briefly
explaining. Shall I write to Dr Simon too?'

'You remember everything,' said Lawford, and it seemed to him it was a
remark he had heard ages and ages ago. 'It's only this money, Sheila;
will you please take that away?'

'Take it away?'

'I think, Sheila, if I do take a voyage I should almost prefer to work
my passage. As for a mere "change of scene," that's quite uncostly.'

'It is only your f