see a
solicitor."

"All right. What's his name?"

"I'll tell you, Cuthbertson--Old Jewry Chambers. But first of all let
us come to an understanding about that man Quodling. I called upon his
brother--why, I told you all that before, didn't I?"

"You had just been there when I met you in Norton Folgate," said
Gammon, who felt that before long his own wits would begin to wander.

"To be sure. And now we really must be going."

He stood up staggering, gained his balance, and walked to the window.
The prospect thence seemed to recall him to a consciousness of the
actual present, and he looked round appealingly, distressfully.

"I tell you what it is," said Gammon. "You ought to get into bed and
have a doctor. Shall I help you?"

"No, no; I regret that I came here, Greenacre. I am not welcome; how
could I expect to be? If I am going to be ill it mustn't be here."

"Then let me get a cab and take you to your own place, if your wife is
willing."

"That would be best. The truth is I feel terribly queer, Greenacre.
Suppose I--suppose I died here? Of course, I ought never to have come.
Think of the talk there would be; and that's just what I wanted to
spare them, the talk and the disgrace. It can all be managed by my
solicitor. But I felt that come I must. After all, you see, it's home.
You understand that? It's really my home. I've been here often at
night, just to see the house. The wonder is that I didn't come in
before. Of course, I knew I couldn't be welcome--but one's wife and
child, Greenacre. The real wife, whether the other's alive or not."

Gammon started.

"What did you say?" he asked in a whisper.

"Nothing--nothing. You are a good fellow, I am sure, and my wife likes
you, that's quite enough. The point is this now, I must destroy that
will, and get Cuthbertson to draw a deed of gift, all in order, you
know, but nothing that could get wind and make a scandal. The will
would be publicly known, I ought to have remembered that. I repeat,
Greenacre, that what I have to do is to provide for them both without
causing them any trouble or disgrace."

Catching the listener's eye he became silent and confused for a moment,
then added quickly:

"I beg your pardon. I addressed you by the wrong name. Gammon, I meant
to say. Gammon, my wife's friend, a thoroughly honest man. Have I made
myself clear, Gammon? I--you see how the matter stands?"

Gammon was beginning to see that the matter stood in a perilous
posi