l tell you this:
I have come upon a fact that looks too much like having very painful
consequences if it is discovered by any one else.' He looked at the
other with a hard and darkened face, and struck the table with his hand.
'It is terrible for me here and now. Up to this moment I was hoping
against hope that I was wrong about the fact. I may still be wrong in
the surmise that I base upon that fact. There is only one way of finding
out that is open to me, and I must nerve myself to take it.' He smiled
suddenly at Mr Cupples's face of consternation. 'All right--I'm not
going to be tragic any more, and I'll tell you all about it when I can.
Look here, I'm not half through my game with the powder-bottles yet.'

He drew one of the defamed chairs to the table and sat down to test
the broad ivory blade of the paper knife. Mr Cupples, swallowing his
amazement, bent forward in an attitude of deep interest and handed Trent
the bottle of lamp-black.

CHAPTER X: The Wife of Dives

Mrs Manderson stood at the window of her sitting-room at White Gables
gazing out upon a wavering landscape of fine rain and mist. The weather
had broken as it seldom does in that part in June. White wreathings
drifted up the fields from the sullen sea; the sky was an unbroken grey
deadness shedding pin-point moisture that was now and then blown against
the panes with a crepitation of despair. The lady looked out on the dim
and chilling prospect with a woeful face. It was a bad day for a woman
bereaved, alone, and without a purpose in life.

There was a knock, and she called 'Come in,' drawing herself up with
an unconscious gesture that always came when she realized that the
weariness of the world had been gaining upon her spirit. Mr Trent had
called, the maid said; he apologized for coming at such an early
hour, but hoped that Mrs Manderson would see him on a matter of urgent
importance. Mrs Manderson would see Mr Trent. She walked to a mirror,
looked into the olive face she saw reflected there, shook her head at
herself with the flicker of a grimace, and turned to the door as Trent
was shown in.

His appearance, she noted, was changed. He had the jaded look of
the sleepless, and a new and reserved expression, in which her quick
sensibilities felt something not propitious, took the place of his half
smile of fixed good-humour.

'May I come to the point at once?' he said, when she had given him her
hand. 'There is a train I ought to catch a