on had rounded the
corner, and that as he saw him approach, jauntily, in evening dress, a
light coat on his arm, his strength returned.

"Royal," he exclaimed, for the man was passing him without recognition.
"Royal," he repeated, and Weldon stopped. "I have come to have a word
with you."

The voice in which he spoke was so unlike his own, so rasping and
defiant, that Weldon, with the dread which every respectable householder
has of a scene at his own front door, motioned him up the steps. "Come
in," he said, mellifluously, "I am glad to see you."

"I will," Tristrem answered, in a tone as arrogant as before.

"I am sorry," Weldon continued, "Nanny----"

"I did not come to see your wife; you know it."

Weldon had unlatched the door, and the two men passed into the
sitting-room. There Weldon, with his hat unremoved, dropped in a chair,
and eyed his visitor with affected curiosity.

"I say, Trissy, you're drunk."

"I am come," Tristrem continued, and this time as he spoke his voice
seemed to recover something of its former gentleness, "I am come to ask
whether, in the purlieus of your heart, there is nothing to tell you how
base you are."

Weldon stretched himself languidly, took off his hat, stood up, and lit
a cigarette. "Have an Egyptian?" he asked.

"Do you remember," Tristrem went on, "the last time I saw you?"

Weldon tossed the match into an ash-receiver, and, with the cigarette
between his teeth, sprawled himself out on a sofa. "Well, what of it?"

"When I saw you, you had just contracted a debt. And now you can
liquidate that debt either by throwing yourself in the river or----"

"Charming, Triss, charming! You have made a _bon mot_. I will get that
off. Liquidate a debt with water is really good. There's the advantage
of foreign travel for you."

"Do you know what became of your victim? Do you know? She went abroad
and hid herself. Shall I give you details?"

For the first time Weldon scowled.

"Would you like the details?" Tristrem repeated.

Weldon mastered his scowl. "No," he answered, negligently. "I am not a
midwife. Obstetrics do not interest me. On the contra----"

That word he never finished. Something exploded in his brain, he saw one
fleeting flash, and he was dead. Even as he spoke, Tristrem had whipped
an instrument from his pocket, and before Weldon was aware of his
purpose, a knife, thin as a darning-needle and long as a pencil--a knife
which it had taken the splendid wickedne