“And does your sister imagine you to be in bed?” “I expect so,” said Pauline. They slowly returned to the neighbourhood of the bungalows. Carpentaria wanted to hurry, but it seemed as though Pauline was being held back by some occult force. As a matter of fact, she dreaded the moment when she should re-enter the house. But at length, they stood once again by the doorstep of Josephus Ilam. “What am I to do?” Pauline demanded sadly. “What do you think will be the best thing to do?” “We have not seen your sister in the gardens,” said Carpentaria. “She has most probably returned. She would not be likely to leave Mrs. Ilam for very long, would she? Go and see if she has returned, if she is in Mrs. Ham’s room. And if she is, question her.” “But how? What am I to say? Am I to ask her if she has been out?” “By no means!” said Carpentaria promptly. “You are to pretend that you know nothing. You must approach her diplomatically. Either she will tell the truth or she will----” “Lie! Lie!” cried Pauline. “Say it openly! Say the word! Admit that you are persuading me to behave despicably to the creature who is dearest to me in all the world.” “If there is duplicity,” Carpentaria answered, “you, at any rate, did not begin it. We are convinced of your sister’s good intentions. What else matters? In a few days, perhaps to-morrow, all will be explained. Let me entreat you to go at once. I will await your report.” She shook her head sadly, opened the door with her latchkey, and was just about to shut it when Carpentaria stopped her. “One moment,” he said. “You have told me your sister believes you to be in bed.” “I say ‘probably.’” “It is important that she should not be undeceived. I need not insist. You can easily make it appear that, having been awakened by some noise, you have got up. Eh?” And he smiled. She tried to smile in return, and disappeared from his view. Within the house, she crept upstairs, and into her bedroom, feeling like a thief. When she emerged therefrom she had put on a _peignoir_, and her _coiffure_ was disarranged. She went to the door of Mrs. Ham’s room, and listened intently. There was not a sound. If she was to obey Carpentaria she must enter, and she must wear a false mask: to that sister to whom she had all her life been as sincere as it is possible for one human being to be to another. Well, she could not enter--she could not enter! Her legs would not carry her through the doorway. And so, instead of going in, she called: “Rosie!” But her voice was so weak that she scarcely even heard it herself. No reply came from the interior. And she called again, this time quite loudly: “Rosie, dear!” Then she opened the door an inch or two. There was a rush of skirts across the room, and Rosie appeared. She was evidently in a state of extreme excitement. “What’s the matter? Are you ill?” asked Rosie.