With a murmured word of excuse she glided away, and Courtlaw, who had come with a mission which seemed to him to be one of life or death, was left to listen to the latest art jargon from Chelsea. He bore it as long as he could, watching all the time with fascinated eyes Annabel moving gracefully about amongst her guests, always gay, with a smile and a whisper for nearly everybody. Grudgingly he admired her. To him she had always appeared as a mere pleasure-loving parasite--something quite insignificant. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. And instead he found her playing the great lady, and playing it well. She knew, or guessed his mission too, for more than once their eyes met, and she laughed mockingly at him. At last he could bear it no longer. He left his companion in the midst of a glowing eulogy of Bastien Leparge, and boldly intercepted his hostess as she moved from one group to join another. "Can you spare me a moment?" he asked. "I have a message from your sister." "Are you in a hurry," she asked carelessly. "A lot of these people will be going presently." "My message is urgent," he said firmly. "If you cannot listen to me now it must remain undelivered." She shrugged her shoulders and led him towards a small recess. "So you come from Anna, do you?" she remarked. "Well, what is it?" "Montague Hill is recovering consciousness," he said. "He will probably make a statement to-night." "That sounds very interesting," she answered coolly. "Perhaps I should better be able to understand its significance if you would explain to me who Mr. Montague Hill is." "Your husband," he answered bluntly. She did not wince. She laughed a little contemptuously. "You and Anna," she said, "seem to have stumbled upon a mare's nest. If that is my sister's message, pray return to her and say that the doings and sayings of Mr. Montague Hill do not interest me in the least." "Don't be foolish," he said sharply. "You were seen to leave the flat, and your handkerchief was found there. Very likely by this time the whole truth is known." She smiled at him, an understanding smile, but her words defied him. "What a beautiful mare's nest!" she exclaimed. "I can see you and Anna groaning and nodding your grave heads together. Bah! She does not know me very well, and you--not at all. Do have some tea, won't you? If you must, go then." Courtlaw was dismissed. As he passed out he saw in the hall a quietly dressed man with keen grey eyes, talking to one of the footmen. He shivered and looked behind as he stepped into his hansom. Had it come already? _Chapter XXVII_ JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN "Confess, my dear husband," Annabel said lightly, "that you are bewildered." Sir John smiled.