“I know that she left my hotel in your company, and has been living since under your protection.” Arthur grew livid with rage. He could hardly restrain himself from knocking the man down. He gave a short laugh. “You can do what you like. I’m really not frightened.” “The innocent are so very incautious. I assure you that I can make a good enough story to ruin your career and force you to resign your appointments at the various hospitals you honour with your attention.” “You forget that the case will not be tried in open court,” said Arthur. Haddo looked at him steadily. He did not answer for a moment. “You’re quite right,” he said at last, with a little smile. “I had forgotten that.” “Then I need not detain you longer.” Oliver Haddo got up. He passed his hand reflectively over his huge face. Arthur watched him with scornful eyes. He touched a bell, and the servant at once appeared. “Show this gentleman out.” Not in the least disconcerted, Haddo strolled calmly to the door. Arthur gave a sigh of relief, for he concluded that Haddo would not show fight. His solicitor indeed had already assured him that Oliver would not venture to defend the case. Margaret seemed gradually to take more interest in the proceedings, and she was full of eagerness to be set free. She did not shrink from the unpleasant ordeal of a trial. She could talk of Haddo with composure. Her friends were able to persuade themselves that in a little while she would be her old self again, for she was growing stronger and more cheerful; her charming laughter rang through the little house as it had been used to do in the Paris studio. The case was to come on at the end of July, before the long vacation, and Susie had agreed to take Margaret abroad as soon as it was done. But presently a change came over her. As the day of the trial drew nearer, Margaret became excited and disturbed; her gaiety deserted her, and she fell into long, moody silences. To some extent this was comprehensible, for she would have to disclose to callous ears the most intimate details of her married life; but at last her nervousness grew so marked that Susie could no longer ascribe it to natural causes. She thought it necessary to write to Arthur about it. My Dear Arthur: