“I am glad you have spoken all that is in your mind,” said Barbara; “and now I tell you what we must do. All this must be cured absolutely, and the only cure is plenty of occupation. We have been long enough in Switzerland; we will return home to-morrow.” “To London?” “To London, if you like, for a day or two, and then on to Pelham Towers or the Priory.” “Pelham Towers is the most important place,” said Dick, “and I am sure the people will be glad to welcome us. I have lived at the Towers, as you know, a good deal.” Barbara rose to reenter the hotel. Just as she was about to do so a man’s figure darkened the window. He was tall, with black hair, a thin face, and a kindly, shrewd, clever mouth. He stared for a moment at Barbara, glanced beyond her at Pelham, and then with a hearty exclamation of surprise and pleasure came forward. “Who would have thought of seeing you here, Pelham?” he said. “Pray introduce me to your wife.” “Carroll, this is luck!” cried Pelham. Barbara came forward at once when she heard the name. She had never met Mr. Carroll before, but he was a well-known London lawyer, and also one of little Piers Pelham’s guardians. The two men exchanged some commonplace observations, and Barbara stood for a moment listening to them and joining in herself occasionally. Then, laying her hand on her husband’s shoulder, she said that she was tired and would go to her room, and the two men were left alone together. Leaning over the balcony, they lit their cigars and began to smoke. Carroll, who had been silent for a moment, spoke abruptly. “When are you going home?” “To-morrow.” “Back to London?” “I suppose so for a day or two.” “I am glad to hear it.” “Why?” “You don’t mind if I speak openly, do you, Pelham?” “Of course I don’t. But what do you mean? I hold no secrets.” As Pelham spoke he started and flushed—the memory of all his suspicions with regard to Piers rushed over him. Carroll, who had been gazing fixedly at him, noticed his change of color. “There are some ugly rumors about you in London. You had better go there and show yourself.” “Ugly rumors about me?” said Pelham. “I don’t understand.” “Well, it has got abroad—I daresay there’s not a word of truth in it—but it is the talk of more than one club that you signed a _post obit_ for a large sum just before that child, little Piers, was taken ill. I don’t believe it for a moment: and I denied it flatly. You are the last man to put your hand to such a document. What is the matter, old fellow?—you look ill.” “But it is true; I did sign a _post obit_,” answered Pelham in a low voice. Carroll uttered a surprised exclamation. “You astound me,” he said. “Then for Heaven’s sake, go back to London at once. This is not a time for you to hide yourself in a corner.” CHAPTER XVII. MRS. PELHAM. The Pelhams returned home and took up their quarters at Mrs. Evershed’s house in Mark Place.