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Rh streets, the motor drew up at the house in Warwick Square, and his valet came to the door.

"I won't get out till you have inquired," said Edgar. "Just ring and ask if her ladyship has been here, and if Mr. Lindsay is in."

And still, even though he knew that perhaps in one moment from now all his fears and his suspicions would cease, would drop into the poisoned well from which they came, his mind was empty and void. But his body took cognizance, and he felt his heart hammering and the pulses leaping at his wrist and in his throat. God! would the bell never be answered?

The hall, as shown by the glass windows at the side of the door, was dark, but suddenly they leaped into light, as a servant inside came to the door. His own man was standing with his back to him; after a moment he turned and came down the steps.

"Mr. Lindsay is out, my lord," he said. "He was dining out, and has not come back yet. Her ladyship has not been to the house during the last week."

"Thanks. Drive to Prince's Gate. When we get there" Edgar was silent a moment, and saw that his own hand was trembling as with an ague fit. But still his mind was blank. "When we get there, I do not want you to ring. I have my key, and will let myself in. I want the motor to stop two or three doors off."

His servant mounted again; the car backed a little and made a half -turn, backed again, and completed its circuit. At the door of Charlie's house was still standing the servant who had answered the bell, and the warm light streamed out from behind him.

The drive up from Brayton had seemed short, but this mile or two to Prince's Gate seemed interminable. Even here in the heart of London the ways were very empty; the hansoms that jingled by were few; the buses—since it was now after midnight—had ceased; and he looked up long perspectives of nearly empty pavements. Here and there he saw a man letting himself into his house, even as he himself would soon be letting himself in, and he wondered idly if any were on the awful errand that was taking him westward. Then they passed the lights of the Grosvenor Hotel, and again, with a sense of irresponsibility and remoteness from life, he wondered whether or no he would be there the next night. Where he was to sleep to-night had not occurred to him.