"It is singular," Mr. Sabin remarked, "that you should have chosen to visit Cromer just now. It is really a most interesting meeting. I do not think that I have had the pleasure of seeing you since that evening at the 'Milan,' when your behaviour towards me--forgive my alluding to it--was scarcely considerate." Mr. Sabin was quite friendly and unembarrassed. He seemed to treat the affair as a joke. Felix looked glumly out of the window. "Your luck stood you in good stead--as usual," he said. "I meant to kill you that night. You see I don't mind confessing it! I had sworn to make the attempt the first time we met face to face." "Considering that we are quite alone," Mr. Sabin remarked, looking around the carriage, "and that from physical considerations my life under such conditions is entirely at your mercy, I should like some assurance that you have no intention of repeating the attempt. It would add very materially to my comfort." The young man smiled without immediately answering. Then he was suddenly grave; he appeared to be reflecting. Almost imperceptibly Mr. Sabin's hand stole towards the window. He was making a mental calculation as to what height above the carriage window the communication cord might be. Felix, watching his fingers, smiled again. "You need have no fear," he said; "the cause of personal enmity between you and me is dead. You have nothing more to fear from me at any time." Mr. Sabin's hand slid down again to his side. "I am charmed to hear it," he declared. "You are, I presume, in earnest?" "Most certainly. It is as I say; the cause for personal enmity between us is removed. Save for a strong personal dislike, which under the circumstances I trust that you will pardon me"--Mr. Sabin bowed--"I have no feeling towards you whatever!" Mr. Sabin drew a somewhat exaggerated sigh of relief. "I live," he said, "with one more fear removed. But I must confess," he added, "to a certain amount of curiosity. We have a somewhat tedious journey before us, and several hours at our disposal; would it be asking you too much----" Felix waved his hand. "Not at all," he said. "A few words will explain everything. I have other matters to speak of with you, but they can wait. As you remark, we have plenty of time before us. Three weeks ago I received a telegram from Brussels. It was from--forgive me, if I do not utter her name in your presence; it seems somehow like sacrilege." Mr. Sabin bowed; a little red spot was burning through the pallor of his sunken cheeks. "I was there," Felix continued, "in a matter of twenty-four hours. She was ill--believed herself to be dying. We spoke together of a little event many years old; yet which I venture to think, neither you, nor she, nor I have ever forgotten." Mr. Sabin pulled down the blind by his side; it was only a stray gleam of wintry sunshine, which had stolen through the grey clouds, but it seemed to dazzle him.