“Do you intend to make a long stay in Devonshire?” was Barbara’s next commonplace remark. He answered that circumstances would decide that. Just then Mrs. Pelham came into the room, followed by Dick. Dinner was announced, and the party went into the dining hall. The meal was a subdued one. Pelham’s antipathy to Tarbot made itself felt. Notwithstanding all his efforts, he could not be cordial to his unwelcome guest. The men remained for a short time over wine, and joined the ladies soon afterwards in the drawing-room. The moment they did so, Barbara went up to her husband, slipped her hand inside his arm, and led him into the conservatory. Tarbot had hoped to have a few moments’ conversation with her. He bit his lips as he saw what this movement meant. “She hates me; she cannot bear even to give me ordinary civilities,” he said to himself. “So much the better for my purpose.” The next instant he found himself in a low chair by Mrs. Pelham’s side. “You said you wished to see me, Dr. Tarbot,” she said. “I do,” he replied. “I am anxious to have an interview with you on a matter of grave importance.” “Your looks frighten me,” she said. “What can be very important to me now?” “What I am about to tell you will be of the greatest importance. What time to-morrow can we have our interview?” “Whatever time will suit you, Dr. Tarbot. Your time is mine. I am not specially engaged in any way. It is true that Barbara wants me to go with her to Exeter to choose presents for the villagers’ Christmas tree, but there is no special hurry, and we can postpone our visit. I shall be at your disposal. Will you come here at eleven o’clock?” “Would it be possible for you to come to me?” “Why?” “I have reasons which you will appreciate.” “Certainly, if you wish,” she replied. “I can secure a sitting-room where we can be quite alone at the ‘Pelham Arms.’ May I expect you at eleven o’clock to-morrow?” “Yes,” replied the widow. At that moment Barbara and Pelham entered the room. Barbara sat down at the open piano and began to sing. She sang several times, and her voice was rich, full, and pleasing. Dick went and stood by her side. Between the songs he and she spoke together in low tones, just as if they were lovers. Presently Tarbot, making an effort, went up and joined the group. He could talk well, and he exerted himself now to be agreeable. Presently his efforts met their reward. Barbara ceased to distrust him. He spoke of people and matters which only Londoners would appreciate. Barbara asked questions, put in suggestions, and enjoyed the doctor’s clever epitome of society gossip. Dick scarcely spoke. He was never much of a talker, and his dislike to Tarbot increased moment by moment. Once more the old suspicions returned to him. Had the child come by his death through natural causes? Pelham had to remind himself of what the two great consultants and the chemist had said before his usual equanimity reasserted itself.