round with alert urbanity, he drooped over his plate. I stood opposite him for some time before he looked up, a little wildly, if such a strong word can be used in connection with his correct appearance. </p> <p> &ldquo;Ah, my dear sir! Is it you?&rdquo; he greeted me. &ldquo;I hope all is well.&rdquo; </p> <p> He was very nice about my friend. Indeed, he was always nice, with the niceness of people whose hearts are genuinely humane. But this time it cost him an effort. His attempts at general conversation broke down into dullness. It occurred to me he might have been indisposed. But before I could frame the inquiry he muttered: </p> <p> &ldquo;You find me here very sad.&rdquo; </p> <p> &ldquo;I am sorry for that,&rdquo; I said. &ldquo;You haven&rsquo;t had bad news, I hope?&rdquo; </p> <p> It was very kind of me to take an interest. No. It was not that. No bad news, thank God. And he became very still as if holding his breath. Then, leaning forward a little, and in an odd tone of awed embarrassment, he took me into his confidence. </p> <p> &ldquo;The truth is that I have had a very&mdash;a very&mdash;how shall I say?&mdash;abominable adventure happen to me.&rdquo; </p> <p> The energy of the epithet was sufficiently startling in that man of moderate feelings and toned-down vocabulary. The word unpleasant I should have thought would have fitted amply the worst experience likely to befall a man of his stamp. And an adventure, too. Incredible! But it is in human nature to believe the worst; and I confess I eyed him stealthily, wondering what he had been up to. In a moment, however, my unworthy suspicions vanished. There was a fundamental refinement of nature about the man which made me dismiss all idea of some more or less disreputable scrape. </p> <p> &ldquo;It is very serious. Very serious.&rdquo; He went on, nervously. &ldquo;I will tell you after dinner, if you will allow me.&rdquo; </p> <p> I expressed my perfect acquiescence by a little bow, nothing more. I wished him to understand that I was not likely to hold him to that offer, if he thought better of it later on. We talked of indifferent things, but with a sense of difficulty quite unlike our former easy, gossipy intercourse. The hand raising a piece of bread to his lips, I noticed, trembled slightly. This symptom, in regard to my reading of the man, was no less than startling. </p> <p> In the smoking-room he did not hang back at all. Directly we had taken our usual seats he leaned sideways over the arm of his chair and looked straight into my eyes earnestly. </p> <p> &ldquo;You remember,&rdquo; he began, &ldquo;that day you went away? I told you then I would