ly. "Daphne!--send this woman away."

But Daphne only shuddered, and putting out a shaking hand, she waved him
from her.

"You see in what a state she is!" cried Miss Farmer, with a withering
look. "If you must speak to her, put it off, sir, at least till
to-morrow."

Roger drew back. A strange sense of inexplicable disaster rushed upon
him. He sombrely watched them pass through the door and disappear.

* * * * *

Daphne reached her own room. As the door closed upon them she turned to
her companion, holding out the handkerchief stained with blood she had
been pressing to her temple.

"You saw it all?" she said imperiously--"the whole thing?"

"All," said Miss Farmer. "It's a mercy you're not more hurt."

Daphne gave a hysterical laugh.

"It'll just do--I think it'll do! But you'll have to make a good deal
out of it."

And sinking down by the fire, she burst into a passion of wild tears.

The nurse brought her sal volatile, and washed the small cut above her
eyebrow.

"It was lucky we heard him," she said triumphantly. "I guessed at once
he must be looking for something--I knew that room was full of papers."

A knock at the door startled them.

"Never mind." The nurse hurried across the room. "It's locked."

"How is my wife?" said Roger's strong, and as it seemed, threatening
voice outside.

"She'll be all right, sir, I hope, if you'll leave her to rest. But I
won't answer for the consequences if she's disturbed any more."

There was a pause, as though of hesitation. Then Roger's step receded.

Daphne pushed her hair back from her face, and sat staring into the
fire. Everything was decided now. Yet she had rushed upstairs on Miss
Farmer's information with no definite purpose. She only knew that--once
again--Roger was hiding something from her--doing something secret and
disgraceful--and she suddenly resolved to surprise and confront him.
With a mind still vaguely running on the legal aspects of what she meant
to do, she had bade the nurse follow her. The rest had been half
spontaneous, half acting. It had struck her imagination midway how the
incident could be turned--and used.

She was triumphant; but from sheer excitement she wept and sobbed
through the greater part of the night.

PART III

CHAPTER IX

It was a cheerless February day, dark and slaty overhead, dusty below.
In the East End streets paper and straw, children's curls, girls'
pinafores