For some time after Mrs. Davenport left the drawing-room, young Pringle stood motionless, with his hand resting on the back of a chair. The scene had taken him completely by surprise. At the beginning of it he had made up his mind, or rather his emotions had so wrought upon him, he determined she had no reprehensible connection with the event of the night before. He had implored her to confide in him, and she had given him her confidence up to a certain point. Then she not only refused to trust him any more, but behaved in such an extraordinary way as to lay herself open to the gravest suspicions. If she had at the end of their interview fallen down in a faint, he could have formed an opinion of the case--an opinion which would not have been very favourable to her, but still something definite. But the manner of her leaving the room seemed to throw a new light, or rather cast a new kind of shadow on the case. He had better go down at once and inform Mr. Paulton of what had occurred. He left the drawing-room and returned to the library. In as few words as possible he told the owner of the house that he feared there was no chance of avoiding the unpleasantness of an inquest. Mr. Paulton then asked what the lady had said, but Pringle explained he could not divulge it. He made no comment whatever. The old man breathed heavily, and looked about helplessly when the solicitor had finished. The two young men returned his look, but there was no comforting assurance in their gaze. Alfred Paulton was now profoundly impressed with a sense of the unpleasantness into which he had drawn the whole family. "I am very sorry, sir," said he, addressing his father, "that I have been the cause of all this worry. Of course I had not the least idea last night that anything of this kind was likely to arise. If I had, I should never have acted as I did." "It is most unfortunate," said the father. "Well," broke in Jerry O'Brien, "there's no use now in crying over spilt milk. What we have to ask ourselves is: How can it be best faced--eh, Pringle? Isn't that the practical question?" "I think so," said the solicitor. "For my part I find myself in rather an awkward position. Mrs. Davenport's interests and yours, Mr. Paulton, can scarcely be said to be any longer identical. I cannot advise both. Besides, Mr. Paulton, you have a solicitor of your own. My position is uncomfortable--scarcely professional." "My father's solicitor would be little or no use in this case, Mr. Pringle," said Alfred. "That is the reason we came to you." "Mr. Pringle," said the father, "pray do not throw us over. If you do, I shall not know where to turn. Can you not show us any way out of this unhappy situation?" "Of course," said Pringle, "you must put up with the consequences of facts up to this moment. What I suppose you to be asking me is--How can further consequences be avoided, or can they be avoided at all?"