He must know; if he was to defend Pauline, to watch over her, to brood over her, to protect her, he must know what was going on. This passionate desire swept over him like a flood. There remained nothing else in the world. He rang up the hotel which, tall, white, and cold, rises close by where he had seen Etta Stackpole spring from the cab. He rang up several houses known to him, and, finally, with a sort of panic in his eyes he asked for Lady Hudson’s number. The little dog, aroused by his motions and his voice, leapt on to the bed, and pattering up, gazed wistfully at his face. He reached out his tongue to afford what consolation he could to the master, whom he knew to be perturbed, grieved, and in need of consolation, and just before the tinny sound of a voice reached Grimshaw’s ears Grimshaw said, his lips close to the mouthpiece, “Get down.” And when, after he had uttered the words, “Isn’t that Dudley Leicester speaking?” there was the click of the instrument being rung off, Robert Grimshaw said to himself grimly, “At any rate, they’ll know who it was that rung them up.” But Dudley Leicester hadn’t known; he was too stupid, and the tinny sound of the instrument had destroyed the resemblance of any human voice. Thus, sitting before Pauline Leicester in her drawing-room, did Robert Grimshaw review his impressions. And, looking back on the whole affair, it seemed to present himself to him in those terms of strong light, of the unreal sound of voices on the telephone, and of pain, of unceasing pain that had never “let up” at any rate from the moment when, having come up from the country with Katya’s kisses still upon his lips, he had found Pauline in his dining-room, and had heard that Dudley Leicester didn’t know. He remained seated, staring, brooding at the carpet just before Pauline’s feet, and suddenly she said: “Oh, Robert, what did you _do_ it for?” He rose up suddenly and stood over her, and when he held both her small hands between his own, “You’d better,” he said--“it’ll be better for both you and me--put upon it the construction that shows the deepest concern for you.” And suddenly from behind their backs came the voice of Katya Lascarides. “Well,” she said, “Robert knows everything. Who is the man that rang up 4,259 Mayfair?” Robert Grimshaw hung his head for a moment, and then: “I did,” he said. Katya only answered, “Ah!” Then, very slowly, she came over and put one hand on Pauline’s shoulder. “Oh, you poor dear,” she exclaimed, and then to Robert: “Then you’d better come and tell him so. I’ll stake my new hat to my professional reputation that it’ll put him on to his legs at once.” And with an air of taking him finally under her wing, she conducted him down the passage to Dudley Leicester’s room.