ot suffer, Sheila. Don't be afraid. There are
other ways out.'

Sheila broke down. 'Any one would think to hear you talk, that I was
perfectly heartless. I told Ada to be most careful about the cornflour.
And as for other ways out, it's a positively wicked thing to say to me
when I'm nearly distracted with trouble and anxiety. What motive could
you have had for loitering in an old cemetery? And in an east wind! It's
useless for me to remain here, Arthur, to be accused of every horrible
thing that comes into a morbid imagination. I will leave you, as you
suggest, in peace.'

'One moment, Sheila,' answered the muffled voice. 'I have accused you
of nothing. If you knew all; if you could read my thoughts, you would
be surprised, perhaps, at my--But never mind that. On the other hand, I
really do think it would be better for the present to discuss the thing
no more. To-day is Friday. Give this miserable face a week. Talk it over
with Bethany if you like. But I forbid'--he struggled up in bed,
sallow and sinister--'I flatly forbid, please understand, any other
interference till then. Afterwards you must do exactly as you please.
Send round the Town Crier! But till then, silence!'

Sheila with raised head confronted him. 'This, then, is your gratitude.
So be it. Silence, no doubt! Until it's too late to take action. Until
you have wormed your way in, and think you are safe. To have believed!
Where is my husband? that is what I am asking you now. When and how you
have learned his secrets God only knows, and your conscience! But he
always was a simpleton at heart. I warn you, then. Until next Thursday
I consent to say nothing provided you remain quiet; make no disturbance,
no scandal here. The servants and all who inquire shall simply be told
that my husband is confined to his room with--with a nervous breakdown,
as you have yourself so glibly suggested. I am at your mercy, I own it.
The vicar believes your preposterous story--with his spectacles off.
You would convince anybody with the wicked cunning with which you have
cajoled and wheedled him, with which you have deceived and fooled a
foreign doctor. But you will not convince me. You will not convince
Alice. I have friends in the world, though you may not be aware of it,
who will not be quite so apt to believe any cock-and-bull story you may
see fit to invent. That is all I have to say. To-night I tell the vicar
all that I have just told you. And from this moment, please, w