"It was very, very _kind_ of them," I said, not yet quite smoothed down. "Of course it was," he replied, "as I think I have had the pleasure of telling you before, they are the very kindest people in the world. That is why one feels so specially for them in their troubles. But please forgive me for supposing that you took Miss Wynyard into your confidence--I spoke thoughtlessly. Then you had not even heard of poor Caryll Grey's serious illness?" "Oh yes, I had," I exclaimed. "I meant to have said so, but I am afraid I've got a very confused way of talking." I glanced round half nervously, for I had a worried feeling that his father and mother would be looking for us, and wondering where we were. Clarence seemed to understand intuitively. "There is no hurry," he said gently, "my father and mother are perfectly happy by themselves. It is an old joke among us that they are always ready for a little bit of honeymooning. Let us sit down--it's more comfortable when one wants to talk." I did so. There was a quiet corner where we were practically completely alone. I could see, and I was not sorry for it, that Clarence Payne was really interested--professionally so, I may almost say; his quick instinct had detected something more than ordinary kindly feeling or curiosity of any kind in my tone about the matter, and it made it easier for me to continue. "Yes," I repeated, "I did know about the younger brother's illness, and I should like to hear more. Indeed anything that you feel you can tell me. Is he getting better? Do you think he will recover? Isabel Wynyard only told me that the doctor looked very grave when she or her father inquired about him." Clarence thought for a moment before replying. I waited anxiously. "He is certainly very seriously ill," he said at last. "But these delicate people often pull through where stronger ones snap. But--I fear there are complications which are unfavourable." "Do you mean," I said eagerly, "anything connected with the whole affair? The mystery, whatever it is? For of course that there is a mystery is no secret. You said I might ask you anything," I concluded apologetically, for it seemed to me that his face by this time grew earnest, grew increasingly so, as I went on speaking. "Yes, yes," he said quickly, "it wasn't that I was thinking of. You are quite right to speak openly, and yet"--and he turned and looked me fully in the face--"we are both fencing a little, Miss Fitzmaurice, I feel, after all. My impression is that you know something more than so far you have been able to allow. Tell me, is it not so? And on my side, I will confide to you that I believe Caryll Grey would have a much better chance if his mind were more at ease." I sat and pondered deeply.