"No, I don't know of one," said Olivia firmly. "But, of course, he was sometimes quite mad." "Mad?" said Mr. Flexen. "Yes, quite. I told him so last night--just before dinner. He was quite mad. He said that I had kissed a friend of ours--at least he was a friend of both of us till he quarrelled with my husband some weeks ago--in the East wood. He raged about it, and declared he was going to start a divorce action. But I didn't take much notice of it. He was always falling into dreadful rages. There was one at breakfast about my cat and another at lunch about the wine. He fancied it was corked." Olivia had perceived clearly that since Elizabeth Twitcher had been a witness of her husband's outburst about Grey, it would be merely foolish not to be frank about it. "But the last matter was very much more serious than the matter of the cat or the wine," said Mr. Flexen. "You don't think that your husband brooded on it for the rest of the evening and worked himself up into a dangerous frame of mind?" Olivia hesitated. She was quite sure that her husband had done nothing of the kind, for if he had worked himself up into a dangerous frame of mind he would assuredly have made some effort to get at her and give some violent expression to it. But she said: "That I can't say. I wish I'd gone down to dinner--now. But I was too much annoyed. I dined in my boudoir. I'd had quite enough unpleasantness for one day. Perhaps one of the servants could tell you. They may have noticed something unusual in him--perhaps that he was brooding." "Wilkins did say that Lord Loudwater seemed upset at dinner, and that he was frowning most of the meal," said Mr. Flexen. "That wasn't unusual," said Olivia somewhat pathetically. "Besides--" She stopped short, on the very verge of saying that she was sure that those frowns cleared from her husband's face before the sweets, for he would never take afternoon tea, in order to have a better appetite for dinner, and consequently was wont to begin that meal in a tetchy humour. Such an explanation would have gone no way to support the hypothesis of suicide. Instead of making it she said: "Of course, he did seem frightfully upset." "But you don't think that he was sufficiently upset to do himself an injury?" said Mr. Flexen. Olivia had formed a strong impression that her husband would not in any circumstance do himself an injury; it was his part to injure others. But she said: "I can't say. He might have gone on working himself up all the evening. I didn't see him after he left my dressing-room. It was there he made the row--while I was dressing for dinner." Mr. Flexen paused; then he said: "Mr. Manley tells me that Lord Loudwater used to sleep every evening after dinner. Do you think that he was too upset to go to sleep last night?" "Oh, dear no! I've known him go to sleep in his smoking-room after a much worse row than that!" cried Olivia. "With you?" said Mr. Flexen quickly.