he agreed; "but I still feel dazed
and shaken."

We turned presently down New Bridge Street, towards the Embankment,
walking side by side without speaking, and I could not help comparing,
with some bitterness, our present stiff and distant relations with the
intimacy and comradeship that had existed before the miserable incident
of our last meeting.

"You don't look so jubilant over your success as I should have
expected," she said at length, with a critical glance at me; "but I
expect you are really very proud and delighted, aren't you?"

"Delighted, yes; not proud. Why should I be proud? I have only played
jackal, and even that I have done very badly."

"That is hardly a fair statement of the facts," she rejoined, with
another quick, inquisitive look at me; "but you are in low spirits
to-day--which is not at all like you. Is it not so?"

"I am afraid I am a selfish, egotistical brute," was my gloomy reply. "I
ought to be as gay and joyful as everyone else to-day, whereas the fact
is that I am chafing over my own petty troubles. You see, now that this
case is finished, my engagement with Dr. Thorndyke terminates
automatically, and I relapse into my old life--a dreary repetition of
journeying amongst strangers--and the prospect is not inspiriting. This
has been a time of bitter trial to you, but to me it has been a green
oasis in the desert of a colourless, monotonous life. I have enjoyed the
companionship of a most lovable man, whom I admire and respect above all
other men, and with him have moved in scenes full of colour and
interest. And I have made one other friend whom I am loth to see fade
out of my life, as she seems likely to do."

"If you mean me," said Juliet, "I may say that it will be your own fault
if I fade out of your life. I can never forget all that you have done
for us, your loyalty to Reuben, your enthusiasm in his cause, to say
nothing of your many kindnesses to me. And, as to your having done your
work badly, you wrong yourself grievously. I recognised in the evidence
by which Reuben was cleared to-day how much you had done, in filling in
the details, towards making the case complete and convincing. I shall
always feel that we owe you a debt of the deepest gratitude, and so will
Reuben, and so, perhaps, more than either of us, will someone else."

"And who is that?" I asked, though with no great interest. The gratitude
of the family was a matter of little consequence to me.

"Well, it is no