He was astonished at his old friend's extraordinary and uncalled-for courage, and it was with an effort, with the feeling that he was bracing himself to see something terrible take place, that he looked straight at the tall, fine-looking man who had now advanced into the circle of light thrown by the massive Argand lamps. But Theodore Carden appeared quite unmoved, nay more, quite unconcerned, by his father's question. "Yes," he said, "I did tell you so. I suppose I knew the old fellow by sight, but I certainly was never introduced to him. Are there any new developments?" He turned to Major Lane with a certain curiosity, and then quite composedly handed him the cup of tea he held in his right hand. "Well, yes," answered the other coldly, "there are several new developments. We arrested Mrs. Jarvice this morning." "That seems rather a strong step to have taken, unless new evidence has turned up since Saturday," said Theodore thoughtfully. "Such new evidence has come to hand since Saturday," observed Major Lane drily. There was a pause, and again Thomas Carden addressed his son with that strange touch of solemnity, and again Major Lane, with an inward wincing, stared fixedly at the young man now standing on the hearth-rug, a stalwart, _debonair_ figure, between himself and his old friend. "Can you assure me--can you assure us both--that you never met Mrs. Jarvice?" Carden looked down at his father with a puzzled expression. "Of course I can't assure you of anything of the kind," he said, still speaking quite placidly. "I may have met her somewhere or other, but I can't remember having done so; and I think I should have remembered it, both because the name is an uncommon one, and because"--he turned to Major Lane--"isn't she said to be an extraordinarily pretty woman?" As the last words were being uttered an odd thing happened. Thomas Carden suddenly dropped the cup he was holding in his hand; it rang against the brass fender and broke in several pieces, while the spoon went clattering into the fireplace. "Father!" exclaimed Theodore, and then quickly he added, "Don't trouble to do that," for the old man was stooping over the rug, and fumbling with the broken pieces. But Thomas Carden shook his head; it was evident that he was, for the moment, physically incapable of speech. A great fear came into the son's mind; he turned to Major Lane, and muttered in an urgent, agonised whisper, "Is it--can it be a seizure? Hadn't I better go and try to find Dr. Curle?" But the other, with a dubious expression on his face, shook his head. "No, no," he said; "it's nothing of the kind. Your father's getting older, Carden, as we all are, and I've had to speak to him to-day about a very disagreeable matter." He looked fixedly, probingly, at the young man.