f conflicting feelings and emotions. And then,
all at once, she was moved, taken away from the dreadful problem of the
moment, by what she saw in Mark Gifford's face. It was filled with a
kind of sober gladness. "Mark," she exclaimed, "what a selfish brute
I've always been to you--never giving--always taking! I'll try to be
different now."

She held out her hand; he took it and held it closely. "When shall I see
you again?" he asked. "May I come and meet you and Bubbles at Liverpool
Street to-morrow?"

"Yes--do. That will be a great comfort!" And then, acting as she very
seldom did, on impulse, Blanche rather shamefacedly held up her face to
his....

CHAPTER XXII

Again and again, as Blanche Farrow walked slowly back to Wyndfell Hall,
she went over the meagre details of the strange story she had just been
told. Again and again she tried to fill in the bare outlines of the
tale.

Lionel Varick a murderer? Her mind, her heart, refused to accept the
possibility.

Suddenly there came back to her a recollection of the curious, now many
years old, circumstances which had attended her knowledge of Varick's
first marriage.

Someone, she could not now remember who, had taken her to one of the
cheap foreign restaurants in Soho, which were not then so much
frequented by English people as they are now. She had been surprised,
and rather amused, to see Lionel Varick at a neighbouring table,
apparently entertaining a middle-aged, rather prim-looking lady, whom he
had introduced to her, Blanche, rather unwillingly, as "my friend, Miss
Weatherfield."

Then had come the strange part of the story!

When on her way to stay with some friends in Sussex a few days later,
she found herself in the same railway carriage as Miss Weatherfield;
and, during the course of some desultory talk, the latter had mentioned
that she was daughter to the Chichester doctor who had attended Lionel
Varick's wife in her last illness.

_Lionel Varick's wife_? For a moment Blanche had thought that there
must be some mistake, or that her ears had betrayed her. But she very
soon realized that there was no mistake, and that she had heard aright.

Successfully concealing her ignorance of the fact that their mutual
friend was a widower, she had ventured a few discreet questions, to
which had come willing answers. These made it clear why Varick had
chosen to remain silent concerning what had evidently been a sordid and
melancholy episode of his p