"Jane seems to think----" Richard Maule was still looking at his cousin intently, and Dick Wantele moved under that look uncomfortably in his chair. "Jane seems to think," Mr. Maule repeated deliberately, "that it would be possible for my marriage with Athena to be annulled. From what I could make out, but Jane was--well, I'm afraid she was very much distressed at proposing such a thing to me,--she evidently thinks I ought to free my wife, that is my duty to make it possible, in fact, for Athena to start afresh--to marry again." "Good God!" "Yes, it's an odd notion--a very odd suggestion to come from a nice young woman. And it gratifies me to see that you too are surprised, Dick." There was an edge of irony in his low, tired voice. "I was very much surprised myself--surprised, first, that the notion had never before presented itself to Athena's active brain; and even more surprised," he spoke more slowly and all the irony was gone, "that the suggestion should have come in any way through Jane Oglander." Dick Wantele turned deliberately away and stared into the fire. "I did not explain to her that what she was good enough to suggest was quite--well, impossible. That she had been, to put it crudely, misinformed." Dick Wantele stared at his cousin. "You did _not_ explain that to her, Richard?" "No, I wished to consult you about the matter, and hear what you had to say. The scheme of course originated with Athena. Our English marriage laws make life very difficult to the sort of woman I have the honour to have for my wife." The other made no answer. "You never even suspected that such a plot was in the hatching?" insisted Richard Maule. "I want a true answer, mind!" Dick Wantele got up from his chair. He put his hand on the back of it and stared down into his cousin's face. "Once, many years ago, Athena spoke to me as if such a thing would be possible," he said. He never lied, he never had lied--in words--to Richard Maule, and he was not going to begin now. "You mean in Italy, when I was ill?" Wantele nodded his head, and then he felt gripped--in the throes of a horrible fear. It was as if a pit had suddenly opened between his cousin and himself, between the man whom he loved,--whose affection and respect he wished above all things to retain, for they were all that remained to him,--and his miserable self. He wondered whether the secret thing he feared showed itself in his face. Richard Maule slowly got up. Wantele made an instinctive movement to help him, but the other waved him off, not unkindly, but a little impatiently. "Dick?" he said. "My boy, I want to ask you a question--an indiscreet question. You need not answer it, but if you answer it, please answer it truly." Wantele opened his mouth and then closed it again. He could not think of the words with which to entreat the other man to desist----