silence, hardly tasting it, his mind far away following Zora Middlemist
across the seas. A horrible, jealous hatred of the big man for whom she
sought sprang up in his heart. His pink face flushed red.

"This _sole bonne femme_ is excellent," said Rattenden.

Sypher started in confusion, and praised the chef, and talked gastronomy
while his thoughts were with Zora. He remembered the confession of Septimus
Dix in Paris. Septimus had been caught in the irresistible atmosphere. He
loved her, but he was one of the little men and she had passed him by with
her magnificent head in the air. The gastronomic talk languished. Presently
Rattenden said:

"One of the feminine phenomena that has puzzled me most of late has been
the marriage of her sister to Septimus Dix."

Sypher laid down his knife and fork.

"How extraordinary that you should mention it! He was in my mind as you
spoke."

"I was thinking of the sister," said Rattenden. "She has Mrs. Middlemist's
temperament without her force of character--the sex without the splendor.
I heard a very curious thing about her only yesterday."

"What was it?"

"It was one of those things that are not told."

"Tell me," said Sypher, earnestly. "I have reasons for asking. I am
convinced there are circumstances of which neither Mrs. Dix's mother nor
sister know anything. I'm a loyal man. You may trust me."

"Very well," said Rattenden. "Have you ever heard of a man called Mordaunt
Prince? Yes--a well-known actor--about the biggest blackguard that
disgraces the stage. He was leading man at the theater where she last
played. They were doing 'The Widow of Ware.' They were about a great deal
together. It was common gossip at the time."

"Gossip is notoriously uncharitable," said Sypher.

"If charity covers a multitude of sins, uncharitableness has the advantage
of uncovering them. The _pudor britannicus_, however, is responsible for
uncovering the one I am going to tell you of. About two or three months
before the marriage, Emmy Oldrieve and Mordaunt Prince were staying
together at an hotel in Tunbridge Wells. There was no mistake about it.
There they were. They had a motor with them. A week before the Dix marriage
was announced Mordaunt Prince married a Mrs. Morris--old Sol Morris, the
money-lender's widow."

Sypher stared at him.

"It's one of the least amazing of human phenomena," said Rattenden,
cynically. "I'm only puzzled at Calypso being so soon able to console
herself