There was no mistaking her tone. It did not mean that if he continued to shut her out like this she would do anything violent--live apart from him, become merely his housekeeper, or anything of that kind. It meant enormously more than that. Where confidence and trust are, there are few divergences that do not presently right themselves, few differences that cannot be resolved; but where these are absent nothing is right. Every word is possible peril, every silence a hanging sword. In all my acquaintance I know of no happier marriage than the Esdailes'. You never go into their house and feel that the air is still charged with some scene that your arrival has interrupted, you never leave wondering what weapons will be picked up again the moment your back is turned. Philip is not without his tempers nor Mollie without her own purposes, but it stops at that. The rest is brave decencies, with I know not what tenderer stuff behind. This it was that seemed for the moment to be in peril. But suddenly she put her hand on his. She did not speak; the hand spoke for her. The next moment his other hand had fallen on hers again, so that both enclosed it. Then their eyes too met. "It would be an awful thing to risk, Phil," she said quietly. His eyes begged her. "Won't you let me carry it a little longer alone?" "I don't believe you can. And if you can," she added, "I don't see what we got married for." "But it will be rotten for you too." "When have I shrunk from that?" she asked. "Never," he replied in a low voice. And so Mollie Esdaile too took her portion of the burden. "Well, where shall we begin?" he asked, with a sigh that it must be so. "You know best. But tell me first why you didn't write." "I hadn't seen young Smith. I haven't yet as a matter of fact. But----," he drew her head to his breast, and there were some moments during which he whispered into her ear. For all his care and guarding it was not possible that she should not at least tremble. But she did not start within his arms. The tremor passed, and her dry lips repeated-- "Shot him!" "For some reason or other. I don't think either of us can quite tell Joan that, can we?" "Shot him! Chummy!" "There's no doubt about it. It was Monty who picked up the pistol. Neither you nor I can very well tell Audrey that, can we?" "Monty found the pistol!" "And I picked up the cartridge-shell myself. The police were round here at six o'clock on Friday morning looking for them." "The police! Here!" In spite of all, Philip could not restrain a little laugh. "Oh, they didn't find anything. They don't when they've given you warning the night before. By that time both pistol and case had been at the bottom of silver-flowing Tamesis for six hours. I dropped 'em in myself from the middle of Albert Bridge. Do you begin to see what you're in for, my poor darling?"