But he had not so far the least idea of the game that was being played. Everything seemed square and above-board. There was evidently plenty of money about; the house was run on a liberal scale. Edwards himself was a most companionable and gentlemanly fellow. He was not quite sure there might not be some ulterior motive in this extreme friendliness, this insistent hospitality. But he fancied it might be a social one. Probably they were ambitious, and wanted to climb in the world. If they made a friend of him he might be disposed to help them in their designs. He went to dinner. “Quite an informal affair,” he explained to Grewgus. “There was only one other guest, a very breezy, red-faced man, just a trifle vulgar. His name was Stormont, and Mrs. Edwards addressed him as uncle. I gathered he had known her from a child and was excessively fond of her, but he was no actual relation. My original suspicions were rather confirmed; there seemed a certain coldness between husband and wife, veiled under the appearance of great politeness. I couldn’t understand it. Mrs. Edwards’ conduct as a young wife seemed to me to be quite perfect. I could not help thinking it must be his fault.” He went again very shortly to a second dinner. As on the previous occasion, there was only one other guest. This time it was her real uncle, a man named Glenthorne, a rather gloomy, taciturn fellow, whom he judged to be altogether of a superior class to Stormont. But of the two he preferred the adopted uncle. He went to Curzon Street three or four times after that, once to the big party which the pair had given as a sort of house-warming. All the time, from various signs and symptoms, his conviction grew that Mrs. Edwards’ life was not a happy one, in spite of her efforts to mask the fact under an assumption of cheerfulness and high spirits. The climax was quickly reached. On a certain day Wraysbury received a note from her, asking if he would call that evening after eight o’clock. She could not ask him to dinner for reasons she would explain when she saw him. She was about to take a very important step, and, presuming on their old acquaintance, she would like to consult him as to the prudence of it. If he were engaged that evening, would he make it the next, or the next after that? “Of course, now I come to think of it, there was something suspicious in that note,” said the young nobleman. “I ought to have told her to write to me what she wanted to consult me about, and I would preserve absolute silence and destroy the letter; but I’m foolishly unsuspicious, and I went, being disengaged that night. “To my great surprise, the door was opened by Mrs. Edwards herself. She appeared in a state of great agitation; I thought at the time she had been crying.