It was understood here and there in Sunbury that he had times of drinking rather hard. Indeed, the fact had been dwelt on by one or two tolerant or daring souls who ventured to speak a word for his wife. She had always quickly and willingly given her services as pianist at local entertainments. Perhaps because, with all her brisk self-possession, she must have been hungry for friends. She played exceptionally well, with some real style and with an almost perverse touch of humour. She was quick, crisp, capable. She disliked banality. To the initiated her playing of Chopin was a joy. The sentimentalists said that she had technique but no feeling. She could really play Bach. And I think she was the most accomplished accompanist that ever lived in Sunbury; certainly the best within my memory. 'Say'--thus Mr Henderson now--'you're Henry Calverly, aren't you?' 'Yes.' 'Well, I'd like to know what you're doing here.' 'I told you. I came for this hat.' 'Your hat?' 'Didn't you see the initials?' 'No. I noticed the hat there. Why didn't you come in the front way? What's all this burglar business?' Henry didn't answer. 'I'll have to ask you to answer that question. You seem to forget that this is my house.' 'No, I don't forget that.' Mr Henderson took out his cigar; turned it in his fingers. Colour came to his face. He spoke abruptly, in a suddenly rising voice. 'Seems to me there's some mighty queer goings-on around here. Sneaking in at two in the morning!' 'It isn't two in the morning.' 'Dam' near it.' 'It isn't half-past one. I tell you----' Henry paused. His position seemed rather weak. Mr Henderson studied his cigar again. He drew a cigar case from an inside pocket. 'I don't know's I offered you one,' he said. He almost muttered it. 'I don't smoke,' said Henry shortly. Mr Henderson resumed the excited tone. It was curious coming in that jumpy way. Even Henry divined the weakness back of it and grew calmer. 'I've been out on----' He paused. Mildred had trained him not to use the phrase, 'on the road.' He resumed with, '--on a business trip. More'n a month. I swan, I'm tired out. Way trains and country hotels. Fierce! If I seem nervous.... Look here, you seem pretty much at home! Perhaps you'll tell me where my wife is!' Henry considered this. Shook his head. 'Trying to make me think you don't know, eh!' 'I do know.' Mr Henderson knit his brows over this. Then, instead of immediately pressing the matter, he took out a fresh cigar and lighted it with the butt of the old one. 'Seems to me you ought to tell me,' he said then. 'I can't.' 'That's queer, ain't it?' 'Well, it's true. I can't.' 'She wrote me that she had Corinne Doag visiting here.' 'Yes. She's here.' 'With my wife? Now?'