"Suppose you go and see Evelyn now? I see a way of helping you which must be put in train at once." He lifted his hat, and, crossing to Hyde Park Corner, hailed a hansom. "The _Crystal_ offices, Fleet Street," he said. "Mr. Brand, _Mr. Brand_, did you say? What on earth can the man want with me? Take him to the library, James, and say I’ll come as soon as I can." Lady Wereminster, erect and stately, gave Henry Brand the mere tips of her fingers, and withered him with her most disconcerting stare. She knew that to meet an unwelcome guest in complete silence puts him at the most serious disadvantage. Her quick eye took in every detail of Brand’s faultlessly arranged air of distress. "Good Heavens, the man looks like a mourner; even his tie-pin is in keeping. Has he come to borrow money, or what?" she wondered. "Lady Wereminster, forgive me. May I sit down?" The voice was low and broken. Lady Wereminster raised her eyebrows, allowing but one word to escape from her tightly pursed lips. "Certainly." Brand hesitated. "I have come to consult you about a matter that is very near my heart, Lady Wereminster. A matter that concerns Evelyn’s welfare. Otherwise I should never have dreamed of intruding upon you." "The time between half-past two and a quarter to three is usually spent in idleness," said Lady Wereminster grimly. "Go on, please." "I shall go straight to the point," said Brand. "I am in great trouble, I’ve heard rumours——" He stopped again, choked by emotion, while Lady Wereminster watched him with a look of stone. "A man can fight his own battles, good or ill scarcely matter where his character is concerned. But when the name of the woman one loves best——" He corrected himself hastily, seeing his hostess’s momentary expression of surprise. "When one’s wife’s name is spoken with ever such slight levity, it’s another matter." He paused, shielding his face with his hands, pent-house fashion, as though utterly overcome. Lady Wereminster looked rather pale. "To what, pray, are you alluding?" she asked. Brand looked up desperately. "Have you seen this week’s _Crystal_, Lady Wereminster? It came half-an-hour ago. I’ve kept it from Evelyn till now. You know those accursed problems that they print weekly—one’s meant to read between the lines. The ghastly part of them is that they are veiled under so damnable and complete a cloak of anonymity." "Will you kindly oblige me by being more explicit?" asked Lady Wereminster, after a glacial pause. Brand turned, at bay, his eyes flashing. He was really playing his part excellently. "There’s something about Evelyn!—about Evelyn!—in the paper." "An unopened copy is on the table beside you," said Lady Wereminster. "Will you kindly read me the paragraph to which you refer?" Holding the table for support, Brand read on slowly, giving each word its full significance. "’_A woman who contemplates an eventual ménage à trois is wise not to marry an athletic husband._’