“Mrs. Baron had a call to pay in the same direction. Captain Ivor thought he might get half-an-hour’s sleep. Roy, be good, I entreat. Do not fidget, and knock over chairs, and talk, talk, talk, without ending.” Roy nodded, and Lucille moved towards the door, adding, as she went, “I also have to see someone, but I shall be back soon.” Roy sat down in a favourite attitude, facing the back of a chair, and wondering what to do next. Would it be right to tell Denham what had happened? Would it be wrong to put off telling? Curtis had enjoined him to speak at once; but Curtis had not known the posture of affairs. The matter might be of consequence, or it might not. Roy was disquieted, but not seriously uneasy; and he hesitated to worry Denham without cause. “Seen anybody?” asked Ivor. “Yes; numbers.” Then a break. “Found Curtis?” “Yes. And Carey too. Would you like to hear all about it?” “By-and-by, I think. It will keep.” Silence again, and Roy debated afresh. What if his action should mean bringing Curtis into trouble? That thought had considerable weight. Three times he formed with his lips the preliminary “I say, Den!” and three times he refrained. The third time some slight sound escaped him, for Denham asked drowsily, “Anything you want?” “Lucille told me not to talk. Does it matter?” Ivor did not protest, as Roy had half hoped. He was evidently dropping off, and Roy decided that a short delay was unavoidable. He took up a volume that lay near; and, being no longer a book-hater, he became absorbed in its contents. General Wirion, chips of wood, the Imperial nose, and irate landladies, faded out of his mind. The matter was no doubt a pity, but after all it meant only--so Roy supposed--a pull upon his father’s purse. Boys are apt to look upon parental purses as unlimited in depth. Denham was sound asleep, and Roy kept as motionless as any girl; not that girls are always quiet. An hour passed; another half-hour; and he began to grow restless. Might it be possible to slip away? Gruff voices and heavy trampling feet, in the hall below, broke into the stillness, and Denham woke up. “This is lazy work,” he said wearily. “Roy--here yet! What time is it?” “Nearly five. Dinner isn’t till six. Head any better?” “Yes. I’m wretched company for you to-day. Different to-morrow, I hope.” “You can’t help it. You’ve just got to get rested--that’s all. I say, what a noise they are making downstairs. Frenchmen do kick up such a rumpus about everything.” The door opened hurriedly, and Lucille came in, wearing still her bonnet, as if just returned from a walk. “I am so sorry,” she said. “I do not know what it means, but I must tell. I have no choice. O it surely must be a mistake, it cannot be truly----” Lucille startled herself no less than her listeners by a sharp sob. She caught Roy’s arm with both hands, holding him fast. “Roy--Roy--what is it that you have done? O what have you done?” she cried.