dow-seat, and her look of incredulity
gradually changed to one of comprehension. 'And he took such delight in
London,' she said, with a break in her voice; 'just like a schoolboy.'

Fielding nodded gloomily. 'I did my best to dissuade him,' he said. 'I
practically told him he was a coward to run away. But you know the man.
He had made up his mind not to face the charge. And yet I can't believe
it's true.'

'Believe it!' exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby, with a hint of something
dangerously near to scorn in her voice.

'I know, I know,' answered Fielding. 'Still Drake pleads guilty. He
sacrifices everything, an established position, unusual
prospects--everything, by pleading guilty. You see, that's the point. He
has every imaginable inducement to make him face the accusation, even if
he has only the merest chance of winning, and yet he runs away. He runs
away--Drake does. There's only one inference--'

'For the world to draw,' interrupted Mrs. Willoughby; 'and doubtless he
meant the world to draw it. But you and I should know him better.'

'Yes,' Fielding admitted. 'Yes.' He began to walk about the room. 'But
what's the reason? Drake's action, if this statement is a libel, is the
action of a madman.'

'A madman? Yes! Don Quixote was mad even in his century,' replied Mrs.
Willoughby. 'I can give you the reason. Clarice was with him yesterday
afternoon.'

'Yesterday?' said Fielding. 'Why, I walked home with Drake from the
City myself.'

'But you didn't go in with him.'

'No; I left him alone to arrange his speech. He meant to mention this
very charge.'

Mrs. Willoughby started to her feet. 'Then that settles it,' she said.
'Clarice was waiting for him in his rooms. Oh, if you had only gone in
with him! You remember what I wrote to you, that he would lie in the
mud if he thought it would save her. Well, that is what he has done.
Clarice came here this very morning and told me what had happened. She
went to his chambers, determined never to return to her husband,
prepared to sacrifice--I give you her words, not mine--to sacrifice
herself, her name, and for his sake. But when she showed him the
_Meteor_ her suspicions were aroused by his manner, and she forced the
truth out of him.'

Fielding gave a short, contemptuous laugh. 'Forced the truth out of him!
She actually told you that?'

'And what's more, she believes it. Oh the waste, the waste of a man like
that upon a doll like her. I suppose there's nothing to be do