"Yes, we were married at half-past one o'clock to-day at the Marylebone Registry Office, and I was hoping that Marguerite would be able to tell you her good news herself. Perhaps"--he smiled--"it isn't as good news to her as it is to me. But this afternoon a most tragic thing happened." He threw away his cigarette, rose, and paced the room with agitated strides. He had practised those very strides all that morning, for he left nothing to chance. "At three o'clock this afternoon I called upon my financier friend, and discovered that, owing to heavy losses which he had incurred on the Stock Exchange, he was unable to keep his promise. I feel terrible, Mr. Tibbetts! I feel that I have induced Marguerite to marry me under false pretences. I had hoped to-morrow morning to have gone to the agents of the estate and placed in their hands the cheque for fourteen thousand pounds, and to have left by the next mail boat for India." He sank into the chair, his head upon his hands, and Bones watched him curiously. Presently, and after an effort, Bones found his voice. "Does your--your--wife know?" he asked. Jackson shook his head. "No," he groaned, "that's the terrible thing about it. She hasn't the slightest idea. What shall I tell her? What shall I tell her?" "It's pretty rotten, old--Mr. Hyane." Bones found his voice after a while. "Deuced rotten for the young miss--for Mrs.--for her." He did not move from his chair, nor relax his stiff expression. He was hurt beyond his own understanding, frantically anxious to end the interview, but at a loss to find an excuse until his eyes fell upon the clock over the mantelpiece. "Come back at ten--no, half-past ten, young Mr. ... awfully busy now ... see you at half-past ten, eh?" Mr. Hyane made a graceful exit, and left Bones alone with the shattered fragments of great romance. So that was why she had gone off in such a hurry, and she had not dared to tell him. But why not? He was nothing to her ... he would never see her again! The thought made him cold. Never again! Never again! He tried to summon that business fortitude of his, of which he was so proud. He wanted some support, some moral support in this moment of acute anguish. Incidentally he wanted to cry, but didn't. She ought to have given him a week's notice, he told himself fiercely, than laughed hysterically at the thought. He considered the matter from all its aspects and every angle, and was no nearer to peace of mind when, at half-past ten to the second, Mr. Jackson Hyane returned. But Bones had formed one definite conclusion, and had settled upon the action he intended taking. Mr. Hyane, entering the study, saw the cheque book on the desk, and was cheered. Bones had to clear his voice several times before he could articulate.