ice.

He turned his head at that, and looked for an instant straight into her
eyes.

"She is still the one woman, dear," he said, very tenderly. "Always
remember that."

She shook her head in protest. Her lips were quivering too much for
speech.

Babbacombe drove slowly on in silence.

At last the hand upon his knee pressed slightly.

"You can have her if you like, Jack," Cynthia murmured. "She's going
mighty cheap."

He freed his hand for a moment to grasp hers.

"I shall follow her to London," he said, "and woo her there."

She smiled at him gratefully and began to speak of other things.

The doctor was out, to her evident relief. Babbacombe wanted to go in
search of another, but she would not be persuaded.

"I'm sure it will be all right to-morrow. If not, I shall be in town,
and I can go to a doctor there. Please don't make a fuss about it. It's
too absurd."

Reluctantly he abandoned the argument, and they followed the hounds in
the motor instead.

VIII

Babbacombe's guests departed upon the following day. Cynthia was among
the first to leave. With a flushed face and sparkling eyes she made her
farewells, and even Babbacombe, closely as he observed her, detected no
hint of strain in her demeanour.

Returning from the station in the afternoon after speeding some of his
guests, he dropped into the local bank to change a cheque. The manager,
with whom he was intimate, chanced to be present, and led him off to his
own room.

"By the way," he said, "we were just going to send you notice of an
overdraft. That last big cheque of yours has left you a deficit."

Babbacombe stared at him. He had barely a fortnight before deposited a
large sum of money at the bank, and he had not written any large cheque
since.

"I don't understand," he said. "What cheque?"

The manager looked at him sharply.

"Why, the cheque for two hundred and fifty pounds, which your agent
presented yesterday," he said. "It bore your signature and was dated the
previous day. You wrote it, I suppose?"

Babbacombe was still staring blankly, but at the sudden question he
pulled himself together.

"Oh, that! Yes, to be sure. Careless of me. I gave him a blank cheque
for the Millsand estate expenses some weeks ago. It must have been
that."

But though he spoke with a smiling face, his heart had gone suddenly
cold with doubt. He knew full well that the expenses of which he spoke
had been paid by West long before.

He re