"What next?" he cried. "It is gone; everything is gone, except you and I." He took two rapid steps towards her, when both paused. Some one had tapped at his door, and, without speaking, he pointed to the half-open door into Marie's room. Then he flung off his coat and waistcoat. Just then the tap was repeated. "Come in," he said. Lord Brereton entered. "So sorry to disturb you," he said, "but I must tell them what time you want breakfast. You merely said you wished to go early." "Oh, half-past eight will do for me," said Jack. "I can get up to town by ten, which is all I want." Lord Brereton advanced very slowly and methodically across to the table. "My wife's fan," he said, taking it up. "She is with Marie," said the other, not pausing, "who I am afraid is very unwell. Mildred came in here just now to speak to me; I did not see she had forgotten it." Even as he spoke he realized the utter futility of lying, when there was in the world the woman who had written that note which he held crumpled up in his hand. But his instinct was merely to gain time, just as a condemned criminal might wish his execution postponed. "I am sorry to hear that," said Andrew. "I will leave the fan in my wife's dressing-room. Good-night." He went softly out, and Jack opened the other door. The sweat poured from his forehead, and a deadly sickness came over him. He put his bed-candle into Mildred's hand. "No, nothing has happened yet," he said. "I told him you were with Marie. You with Marie--there's a grim humour about that, though I didn't see it at the time. My God! we'll have a fight for it yet!" Mildred looked at him. "Jack, you are ill; you look frightful," she said. "Very possibly." He paused a moment. "Mildred, you woman, you devil!--which are you?" he whispered. "My God! you have courage. Here am I, trembling; you are as steady as if you were talking to a stranger in a drawing-room full of people!" She laughed silently, with a horrible gusto of enjoyment, the sense of danger quickening, intoxicating her. "What does it matter?" she whispered. "What does anything matter?" CHAPTER XVI