r,' said Welby, quietly. 'The more
completely you can enlighten her, the better for us all.'

Fenwick's lips moved, but without speaking. Welby's ignorance of the
whole truth oppressed him; yet he could make no effort to remove it.

Welby came back towards him.

'There is no reason, I think, why we should carry this conversation
further. I will let Miss Morrison know that I have communicated with
you.'

'No need,' said Fenwick, interrupting him. 'I shall see her first
thing in the morning--'

'And'--resumed Welby, lifting a book and letting it fall
uncertainly--'if there is anything I can do--with Lord Findon--for
instance--'

Fenwick had a movement of impatience. He felt his endurance giving
way.

'There is nothing to do!--except to tell the truth--and to as few
people as possible!'

Welby winced. Was the reference to his wife?

'I agree with you--of course.'

He paused a moment--irresolute--wondering whether he had said all
he had to say. Then, involuntarily, his eyes rested questioningly,
piercingly, on the man beside him. They seemed to express the marvel
of his whole being that such an offence could ever be--they tried
to penetrate a character, a psychology which in truth baffled them
altogether.

He moved to the door, and Fenwick opened it.

As his visitor walked away, Fenwick stood motionless, listening to the
retreating step, which echoed in the silence of the vast, empty hotel,
once the house of Madame de Pompadour.

He looked at his watch. Past midnight. By about three o'clock, in the
midst of a wild autumnal storm, he had finished his letter to Madame
de Pastourelles; and he fell asleep at his table, worn out, his head
on his arms.

Before ten on the following morning Fenwick had seen Bella Morrison.
A woman appeared--the caricature of something he had once known, the
high cheek-bones of his early picture touched with rouge, little curls
of black hair plastered on her temples, with a mincing gait, and a
manner now giggling and now rude. She was extremely sorry if she had
put him out--really particularly sorry! She wouldn't have done so
for the world; but her curiosity got the better of her. Also, she
confessed, she had wished to see whether Mr. Fenwick would acknowledge
his debt to her. It was only lately that she had come across a
statement of it amongst her father's papers. It was funny he should
have forgotten it so long; but there--she wasn't going to be nasty. As
to poor Mrs. Fenwick