s face with the smile of an
artist with a masterpiece in his eye. It was an inevitable moment, come
at last when least expected; instinct, however, had prepared Rachel,
just one moment before; and after all she could stare coldly on his
enthusiasm, without a start or a tremor to betray the pose.

"Yes?" she said, her fine eyebrows raised a little. "And do you really
think that would make a book?"

It was characteristic of Rachel that she did not for a moment--even that
unlooked-for moment--pretend to be unfamiliar with the case.

"Don't you?" he asked.

"I haven't thought about it," said Rachel, looking pensively at the
flowers. "But surely it was a very sordid case?"

"The case!" he cried. "Yes, sordid as you like; but I don't mean the
case at all."

"Then what do you mean, Mr. Langholm?"

"Her after life," he whispered; "the psychology of that woman, and her
subsequent adventures! She disappeared into thin air immediately after
the trial. I suppose you knew that?"

"I did hear it."

Rachel moistened her lips with champagne.

"Well, I should take her from that moment," said Langholm. "I should
start her story there."

"And should you make her guilty or not guilty?"

"Ah!" said Langholm, as though that would require consideration;
unluckily, he paused to consider on the spot.

"Who are you talking about?" inquired Mr. Venables, who had caught
Rachel's last words.

"Mrs. Minchin," she told him steadily.

"Guilty!" cried Mr. Venables, with great energy. "Guilty, and I'd have
gone to see her hanged myself!"

And Mr. Venables beamed upon Rachel as though proud of the sentiment,
while the diamonds rose and fell upon her white neck, where he would
have had the rope.

"A greater scandal," he went on, both to Rachel and to the lady on his
other side (who interrupted Mr. Venables to express devout agreement),
"a greater scandal and miscarriage of justice I have never known.
Guilty? Of course she was guilty; and I only wish we could try her again
and hang her yet! Now don't pretend you sympathize with a woman like
that," he said to Rachel, with a look like a nudge; "you haven't been
married long enough; and for Heaven's sake don't refuse that bird! It's
the best that can be got this time of year, though that's not saying
much; but wait till the grouse season, Mrs. Steel! I have a moor here in
the dales, keep a cellar full of them, and eat 'em as they drop off the
string."

"Well?" said Rachel, turning to