city.

"If he comes well out of this case, and feels he's on the road to
success, he'll be another man. He'll dare as a man ought to dare."

She went on sewing the little garment for Dion's child.

"I'll walk across the Park with you, old Dion," said Daventry that
night, as they left the house in Great Cumberland Place, "whether you're
going to walk home or whether you're not, whether you're in a devil of
a hurry to get back to your Rosamund, or whether you're in a mood for
friendship. What time is it, by the way?"

He was wrapped in a voluminous blue overcoat, with a wide collar,
immense lapels, and apparently only one button, and that button so
minute that it was scarcely visible to the naked eye. From somewhere he
extracted a small, abnormally thin watch with a gold face.

"Only twenty minutes to eleven. We dined early."

"You really wish to walk?"

"I not only wish to walk, I will walk."

The still glory of frost had surely fascinated London, had subdued the
rumbling and uneasy black monster; it seemed to Dion unusually quiet,
almost like something in ecstasy under the glittering stars of frost,
which shone in a sky swept clear of clouds by the hand of the lingering
winter. It was the last night of February, but it looked, and felt, like
a night dedicated to the Christ Child, to Him who lay on the breast of
Mary with cattle breathing above Him. As Dion gazed up at the withdrawn
and yet almost piercing radiance of the wonderful sky, instinctively he
thought of the watching shepherds, and of the coming of that Child who
stands forever apart from all the other children born of women into this
world. He wished Rosamund were with him to see the stars, and the frost
glistening white on the great stretches of grass, and the naked trees in
the mysterious and romantic Park.

"Shall we take the right-hand path and walk round the Serpentine?" said
Daventry presently.

"Yes. I don't mind. Rosamund will be asleep, I think. She goes to bed
early now."

"When will it be?"

"Very soon, I suppose; perhaps in ten days or so."

Daventry was silent. He wanted and meant to talk about his own affairs,
but he hesitated to begin. Something in the night was making him feel
very small and very great. Dion gave him a lead by saying:

"D'you mind my asking you something about the Clarke case?"

"Anything you like. I'll answer if I may."

"Do you believe Mrs. Clarke to be guilty or innocent?"

"Oh, innocent!" exclaimed Dave