Although matters with Edward Hazeldine had gone so far well that John Brancker had been acquitted, while his father's shameful secret remained unsuspected by anyone, he was far from being a happy man, far from being able to boast of that peace of mind--untouched by anything more serious than trivial business annoyances--which had been his before his father's death. The secret he carried about with him was the nightmare of his life. Never was there a man less prone than he to introspective brooding, or the creation of imaginary troubles, yet, despite his native strength of mind, despite his persistent reassurances of himself that, after this lapse of time, after the authorities had apparently given up all expectation of ever being able to solve the mystery, and now that the whole affair seemed buried out of sight and done with, anything could ever happen which would reveal it to the world, and therewith the base and ignoble part played by him throughout--despite all this, the secret which he hid up in his breast was like a slow poison working in his blood, unstringing his nervous system, and to some extent, or so it seemed to him, devitalizing his brain. It was as if his ambition were paralyzed. He lived in perpetual dread of he knew not what. Any day, in some mysterious way he could not even guess at, the secret of his father's death might be brought to light. The monstrous injustice of which he had allowed John Brancker to be the victim did not fail to still rankle in his heart, an unhealed sore for which it seemed hopeless to find a cure. And now, on the top of all this, came his brother's communication. What was to be done? It had been his intention to propose to Miss Winterton early in the new year, but with that black shadow keeping him company wherever he went and refusing to be laid, he had kept putting off the decisive moment from day to day till, for the time being, the opportunity was gone. Lord and Lady Elstree had left Seeham Lodge for Torquay, taking Miss Winterton with them, and the date of their return was uncertain. Edward Hazeldine, although he would have been loth to confess it, was not sorry for the reprieve.