hat she had had
nothing to eat since breakfast, and making a good stand against
brain-whirl caused by the almost unbearable strangeness of the story.

On arriving at the Towers, she was disconcerted to find that all her
solicitude about her mother's loneliness in her absence had been thrown
away. She whispered to herself that it served her right for fidgeting
about other people. Adrian had been perfectly justified when he said
that interest in one's relations was the worst investment possible for
opulent Altruism.

Well--she was better off now than she had been in the early morning,
when there was all that terrible disclosure ahead. It was _done_--ended;
for better, for worse! She might indulge now in a cowardice that shrank
from seeing the two old sisters again until they were familiarised with
the position. If only she might find them, on her next visit, habituated
to a new _modus vivendi_, with the possibility of peaceful years
together, to live down the long separation into nothingness! If only
that might be! But was it possible? Was it conceivable even?

Anyhow, she deserved a well-earned rest from tension. And presently she
would tell the whole strange story to Adrian, and show him that clever
forgery.... No!--thought stopped with a cruel jerk, and her heart
said:--"Shall I ever _show_ him anything! Never! Never!"

* * * * *

"You went to Pensham, mamma?" said Gwen to her mother, the next day, as
soon as an opportunity came for quiet talk.

"On my way to Poynders," said the Countess yawnfully. "But it was
unlucky. Lady Torrens was keeping her room. Some sort of nervous attack.
I didn't get any particulars."

Gwen suspected reticence. "You didn't see her, then?"

"Oh dear no! How should I? She was in bed, I believe."

"You saw _somebody_?"

"Only Sir Hamilton, for a few minutes. He doesn't seem uneasy. I don't
suppose it's anything serious."

"Did you see 'Re?"

"Miss Torrens and her brother were out. Didn't come back." Her ladyship
here perceived that reticence, overdone, would excite suspicion, and
provoke exhaustive inquiry. "I had a short chat with Sir Hamilton. Who
gave me a very good cup of tea." The excellence of the tea was, so to
speak, a red herring.

Gwen refused to be thrown off the scent. "He's an old friend of yours,
isn't he?" said she suggestively.

"Oh dear yes! Ages ago. He told me about some people I haven't heard of
for years. I must try and call