ad not even indulged in the reading of books of romance. The thing
which had happened last night, as in the cold morning sunlight he sat up
in his bed, seemed to him a thing grotesque, inconceivable. It was
not really possible that those people--those well-bred, well-looking
people--had seriously contemplated an enormity which seemed to belong
to the back pages of history, or that he, Tavernake, had burst through
a wall with no weapons in his hand, and had dominated the situation! He
sat there steadily thinking. It was incredible, but it was true! There
existed still in his mind some faint doubt as to whether they would
really have proceeded to extremities. Pritchard himself had made light
of the whole affair, afterwards had treated it, indeed, as a huge
practical joke. Tavernake, remembering that little group as he had first
seen it, remained doubtful.

By degrees, his own personal characteristics began to assert themselves.
He began to wonder how his action would affect his commercial interests.
He had probably made an enemy of this wonderful sister of Beatrice's,
the woman who had so completely filled his thoughts during the last few
days, the woman, too, who was to have found the money by means of which
he was to set his feet upon the first rung of the ladder. This was a
thing, he decided, which must be settled at once. He must see her and
know exactly what terms they were on, whether or not she meant to be off
with her bargain. The thought of action of any sort was stimulating. He
rose and dressed, had his breakfast, and set out on his pilgrimage.

Soon after eleven o'clock, he presented himself at the Milan Court and
asked for Mrs. Wenham Gardner. For several minutes he waited about in
nervous anticipation, then he was told that she was not at home. More
than a little disappointed, he pressed for news of her. The hall porter
thought that she had gone down into the country, and if so it
was doubtful when she would be back. Tavernake was now seriously
disconcerted.

"I want particularly to wire to her," he insisted. "Please find out from
her maid how I shall direct a telegram."

The hall porter, who was a most superior person, regarded him blandly.

"We do not give addresses, sir," he explained, "unless at the expressed
wish of our clients. If you leave a telegram here, I will send it up to
Mrs. Gardner's rooms to be forwarded."

Tavernake scribbled one out, begging for news of her return, added
his address an