"I thought that you would probably possess them," said Flossy softly, as she settled herself once more in her comfortable chair. He went into another room, and soon returned bearing in his arms a little pile of papers, yellow indeed with age, but, as Mrs. Vane noticed, completely free from dust. It was evident that some one else had been very lately perusing them; but she made no comment on the subject. "Go on with your writing," she said, beginning to take off her gray gloves with admirable coolness. "I can find what I want without your aid." He gave her a long look, then set the papers on a little table beside her and returned to his own seat. He did not however begin to write again. He turned the chair almost with its back to Mrs. Vane, and clasped his hands behind his fine dark head. In this position he remained perfectly motionless until she had finished her examination of the newspapers. In a quarter of an hour she declared herself satisfied. "Have you found all that you wanted?" "Oh; yes, thank you!" One important item she had certainly secured--the fact that Westwood's daughter had been named "Cynthia Janet." "Cynthia Janet Westwood"--"Cynthia West"--it was plain enough to her quick intelligence that the two were one and the same. Hubert had never thought of looking for the name of Westwood's little daughter in the _Times_. "By-the-bye," said Flossy lightly, "I hear sad tales of you in town. How often is it that you go to see the new singer--Miss West? Has poor Enid a rival?" He did not look round; but she saw that her question sent a shock through his nerves. "I do not know what you mean," he answered coldly. "Oh, do you not? You may as well speak the truth--to me, Hubert. Are you going to marry Miss West or Miss Vane--which?" "Neither, I think." "Don't be absurd. Are you going to marry Miss West?" "No." "Shall you marry Enid Vane?" "It is not very likely that she will marry me." Something in the intense dreariness of his tone struck painfully on Florence's ear. She rose and put her hand on Hubert's shoulder. "What is the matter with you, Hubert?" He shook off her hand as if it had been a noxious reptile of which he desired to rid himself, and rose to his feet. "You must not mind what I say to-day, Florence. I am not well. I--I shall see you another time." "Of course you will--plenty of times, I hope!" A look of dismay began to show itself in Flossy's velvet-brown eyes. "You are not contemplating any new step, I hope? I----" "Don't be alarmed!" he said, with a hoarse unnatural laugh. "Before I take any new step I will come to you. I will not leave you without a warning." Then he seemed to recover his self-possession and spoke in more measured tones. "Nonsense, Florence--don't concern yourself about me! I have a bad headache--that is all. If I am left alone, I shall soon be better."