"Poor, poor fellow," sighed Dr. Belleville. "I am greatly pained to hear it. You were his friend, were you not, Pinsent? I can see that you are upset. Won't you come in and have a glass of brandy? you look quite done up." "No, thank you," I answered. "I must get home and change these bloodstained clothes--there is to be an inquest this afternoon. Good-morning." "Good-morning!" he replied. He was staring at the bloodstains to which I had purposely directed his attention. But he did not give a sign of agitation. His face remained as expressionless as wood. Chapter XX Lady Helen's Medicine Operates On arrival at Jermyn Street I changed my clothes and, having collected all my belongings, I repaired at once to Dixon Hubbard's flat. I could not endure the thought of spending one unnecessary moment in my poor dead friend's abode. I saw his honest face and gay, mirth-filled eyes in every corner; and he smiled at me from every dark nook and shadow of the trophy-covered walls. Hubbard received me with his usual frozen politeness. He was still in bed. But I felt an overmastering desire for human sympathy, so I ignored his manner and told him what had passed. He was sorry, I think. He had only met Weldon twice, and had merely exchanged a word or two with him, but he admitted having felt drawn to the bright and manly lad; and though he said little, it could be seen that he was shocked to hear of a death so untimely and on all accounts so utterly regrettable. And he strove to cheer me in his way. After a long silence, he suddenly remarked on the iron-bound remorselessness of fate. "There," he said, "was a young fellow just about to taste his cup of long-anticipated happiness. A man with many friends and no enemies; universally liked and respected. Yet destiny, without warning, dashed the cup for ever from his lips. And one cannot console oneself with the reflection that he has been spared the pain and shame of finding the contents bitter-sweet and mixed with dregs; for the girl loved him, I am told, and she was good to look upon, and honest-hearted. What is the meaning of it all? Omar laughingly declares that the Potter is a Good Fellow and 'twill all be well. But how many pots have encountered that experience? Have I--though still I'm here? And you? I'm all awry. The Potter's hand shook in making me. As for you, you started straight, but you grow more crooked every day and it's not your fault; you are a helpless dough puppet in the hands of destiny." "You think I grow crooked?" I asked, surprised. "Mentally?" "Morally," he answered, with a sneer. "You picked a foolish quarrel to leave me, and now you are back again. Why?" "Can you tell me?" "I have a theory," he said, with kindly eyes. "Tell me if I am wrong. My wife has become interested in you. She has marked you for a victim. At first you were unwilling. You could not even bear to be near me. But now you are more callous."