st and smiled condescendingly. But
the big man stood in the background, scarcely bowing at all, and quite
forgetting to smile. One could see from the expression of his patient
face that he knew it did not matter what he did for no one was looking
at him--which was only the truth. Then, when the applause was over, he
turned and walked away, heavy-shouldered and rather tired--his day's
work done. And, I don't know why, I thought--of Cartoner."

She expected the name. Perhaps she wished for it, though she never would
have spoken it herself. She had yet to learn to do that.

"Yes," said Deulin, after a pause, pursuing, it would appear, his own
thoughts, "the world would get on very well without its talkers.
No great man has ever been a great talker. Have you noticed that in
history?"

Wanda made no answer. She was still waiting for the news that he had
to tell her. The logs on the fire fell about with a crackle, and
Deulin rose to put them in order. While thus engaged he continued his
monologue.

"I suppose that is why I feel lonely this afternoon. In a sense, I am
alone. Cartoner has gone, you know. He has left Warsaw."

Deulin glanced at the mirror over the mantel-piece, and if he had had
any doubts they were now laid aside, for there was only gladness in
Wanda's face. It was good news, then. And Deulin was clever enough to
know the meaning of that.

"Gone!" she said. "I am very glad."

"Yes," answered Deulin, gravely, as he returned to his chair. "It is
a good thing. I left him this morning, placidly preparing to depart at
half an hour's warning. He was packing, with that repose of manner which
you have perhaps noticed. Better than Vespers, better than absolution,
is Cartoner's repose of manner--for me, bien entendu. But, then, I am
not a devout man."

"Then you have done what I asked you to do," said Wanda, "some time ago,
and I am very grateful."

"Some time ago? It was only yesterday."

"Was it? It seems more than that," said Wanda. And Deulin nodded his
head slowly.

"I was able to give him some information which made him change his plans
quite suddenly," he explained. "So he packed up and went. He had not
much to pack. We travel light--he and I. We have no despatch-boxes
or note-books or diaries. What we remember and forget we remember
and forget in our own heads. Though I doubt whether Cartoner forgets
anything."

"And you?" asked Wanda, turning upon him quickly.

"I? Oh! I do my best," he said, l