"I'm glad you agree with me," Mr. Weatherley declared, approvingly. "Splendid fellow, Sabatini," he continued,--"full of race to his finger-tips. Brave as a lion, too, but unscrupulous. He'd wring a man's neck who refused to do what he told him. Yet do you know, Chetwode, he wouldn't take money from me? He was desperately hard up one day, I know, and I offered him a cheque, but he only shook his head. 'You can look after Fenella,' he said. 'That's all you've got to do. One in the family is enough.' The night after, he played baccarat with Rosario and he won two thousand pounds. Clever fellow--Sabatini. I wish I wasn't so frightened of him. You know the sort of feeling he gives me, Chetwode?" Mr. Weatherley continued. "He always makes me feel that I'm wearing the wrong clothes or doing the wrong thing. I'm never really at my ease when he's about. But I like him--I like him very much indeed." Arnold had turned a little away. He was beginning to feel the strain of the situation. "I wish Fenella would come," Mr. Weatherley wandered on. "I don't seem to be able to get on with my work this morning, since you told me she was coming down. Queer thing, although I was with her last evening, you know, Chetwode, I feel, somehow, as though I'd been away from her for weeks and weeks. I can't remember exactly how long--there's such a buzzing in my head when I try. What do you do when you have a buzzing in your head, Chetwode?" "I generally try and rest in an easy-chair," Arnold replied. "I'll try that, too," Mr. Weatherley decided, rising to his feet. "It's a--most extraordinary thing, Chetwode, but my knees are shaking. Hold me up--catch hold of me, quick!" Arnold half carried him to the easy-chair. The horn of the automobile sounded outside. "Mrs. Weatherley is here, sir," Arnold whispered. Mr. Weatherley opened his eyes. "Good!" he murmured. "Let me sit up." There was a moment's pause. Arnold moved to the door and held it open. They heard the swish of her skirts as she came through the outer office, and the heavier footsteps of the doctor who followed. Mr. Weatherley tried vainly to rise to his feet. He held out his arms. Fenella hastened towards him. "Fenella, I couldn't help it," her husband gasped. "I had to kill him--he told me he was waiting there for you. My hands are quite clean now. Chetwode told me that he got up and walked away, but that's all nonsense. I struck him right over the skull." She fell on her knees by his side. "You dear, brave man," she murmured. "I believe you saved my life." He smiled. His face was suddenly childlike. He was filled with an infinite content. "I think," he said, "that I should like--to go home now--if this other gentleman and Chetwode will kindly help me out. You see, I haven't been here since May 4, and to-day is July 2. I think I must have overslept myself. And that idiot Jarvis was opening the letters when I arrived! Yes, I'm quite ready."