'Well,' said Sir Samuel, 'it is curious--I don't understand it--we had arranged for the application for a warrant for Friday morning. Would you believe it? That old donkey Checkley won't go for it--wants it put off--says he thinks it will be of no use. What with this young man Austin at first, and this old man Checkley next, we seem in a conspiracy to defeat the ends of justice. But to-morrow I shall go myself to my brother. It is time this business was finished.' 'Yes--yes,' said Mrs. Arundel. 'And my dear Sir Samuel, before Wednesday--let it be before Wednesday, I implore you, for all our sakes!' 'My dear Madam, it shall be to-morrow.' * * * * * At noon, Elsie returned to Half Moon Street, where George was waiting for her. 'I have made one more attempt,' she said, with tears; 'but it was useless. Her heart is as hard about you as ever it was about Athelstan. It is wonderful that she should have so little faith. I suppose it comes of going into the City and trying to make money. Edmund Gray would say so. I would have told her all, but for the old man's sake. He knows nothing: he suspects nothing; and I want to make the case so complete that there shall be no doubt--none whatever--possible in the minds of the most suspicious. Even Checkley must be satisfied. I shall finish the work, I hope, this afternoon-- Oh! George--is it possible? Is our wedding day next Wednesday--actually next Wednesday? And the hateful cloud shall be blown away, and--and--and----' For the rest of this chapter look into the book of holy kisses, where you will very likely find it. CHAPTER XXXIII PLENARY CONFESSION Early on Sunday afternoon Elsie started upon her mission. She was anxious, because she was entering upon a most important business, and one requiring the greatest delicacy in the handling. It was enough--more than enough--that her witnesses should be able, one after the other, to identify Mr. Dering with Mr. Edmund Gray: but how much more would her hands be strengthened if she could produce a full and complete narrative of the whole affair, written by the hand which had done it all? To get that narrative was her business with the Master that afternoon. But she was hopeful, partly because she knew her power over the philosopher; and partly because, like every woman who respects herself, she had always been accustomed to get exactly what she wanted, either by asking, coaxing, flattering, or taking.