"Yes," said Rachel; "I only knew it to-day, and I am telling you to prove to you that it wasn't my husband." Stamfordham stood for a moment trying to recall Rendel's attitude at the time, and then, as he did so, he made up his mind that Rendel must have known. "But," he said, after a moment, still somewhat perplexed, "you say you didn't know about this?" "No," said Rachel, "I didn't. My father," and again her lips quivered and told Stamfordham what that father and his good name probably were to her, "was taken very ill, and I had an accident at the time and did not know anything that had happened. Frank told me nothing. Then my father died, and I was ill, and we came here and I did not know it at all till my husband came in and told me"--and her eyes blazed at the thought--"told me what had happened to-day..." She stopped. Stamfordham felt a stab as he thought of it. "But," he said, "did he know? Did he tell you then? Did he know that it was Sir William Gore?" "Oh no, no," Rachel said; "it was Mr. Pateley, and he brought me here to tell you that you might know." Then Stamfordham began to understand. "Mrs. Rendel," he said, with a change of voice and manner that made her heart leap within her. "Where is your husband?" "He is at our house, the little pavilion behind the Casino garden." "Will you take me to him?" Stamfordham said. Rachel looked at him, unable to speak, her face illuminated with hope--then she covered her face in her hands, saying through the tears she could no longer restrain, "Oh, thank you, thank you!" "Come," said Stamfordham gently, but with decision. "You must dry your tears," he added with a smile, "or people will think I have been ill-treating you." And to the speechless amazement of Lady Adela, who was standing outside the curtain waiting until, as she expressed it to herself, she too should have her "innings," Stamfordham passed out before her eyes with Rachel, saying to Lady Adela as he passed, "Will you forgive me? I am going to take Mrs. Rendel back." Then looking round him at the jostling crowd he said to Rachel, offering her his arm, "Will you think me very old-fashioned if I ask you to take my arm to get through the crowd?" And, leaning on his arm, hardly daring to believe what had happened or might be going to happen, Rachel passed back along the room through which she had just come with Pateley, the crowd this time opening before them with some indescribable tacit understanding that something had happened concerned with the incident which, as Rendel had foreseen, nearly everybody at the bazaar had heard of. They did not speak again until they reached the pavilion.