"What a fool the woman must be! A dirty trick too--this secrecy--with her own children. Oh--damn the man. He's feathered his nest--you bet he has! Well----" he read the letter through--"that settles it--my affair! Jill shan't live for a day with Stephen as a stepfather. I'll see to that!--Hurry up!" he called to the driver and went on, forming his plans. "I'll go down to Worthing to-night. Those poor children--all alone! ... I call it a most cruel trick--suddenly springing her marriage upon them." Mario was already there when he reached his rooms, busy unpacking. McTaggart checked him. "Look here--leave all that and throw some things into a bag. Enough for the night--I'm off in another hour to Worthing." "Sissignore." The man's quick eyes fell on the letter McTaggart still held and he smiled to himself. He knew the writing well by now and the eager look it brought to his young master's face. Here was "l'amore..."--(postmark Worthing!) The sooner the marriage came off the better. This was the valet's private thought. He hated these dingy, narrow rooms and longed for a better establishment. But out aloud he merely asked if McTaggart would need his services. "No--I'll wire if I want you, Mario. Hurry, now--And put in that suit the tailor sent before we left. The blue serge--and some decent shirts. I haven't time to change now." He picked up the A.B.C.--studied it and his face cleared. "You'll have to meet me at Victoria--the Brighton line--seven-forty. Get me a first-class return--here's some money. I'm off to dine. You understand? And don't be late." "The Signore can count on me." Mario's black eyes flashed. He revelled in this love affair. "And good fortune go with you--long life--and many children!" he added softly to himself as the door closed with a bang. Then, with his quick, careful hands, he folded a pale grey tie that appealed to him--it looked bridal!--and thought tenderly of Lucia... McTaggart bolted a hurried meal at Victoria, one eye on the clock. He caught up a _Globe_ as he passed the book stall and found his man in the front part of the long train, cool and collected, keeping the seat with his suit-case. "Change at Brighton," said the guard. "You'll have twenty minutes to wait. Thank you, sir--there's no stop." He waved his arms--they were off. The carriage held another man. McTaggart gave him a careless glance as they puffed out of the dark station and leaned back in his corner. The stranger opened a narrow bag beside him and hunted for a cap. Unconsciously watching him, McTaggart saw that a stethoscope lay on the top of the littered contents. "A doctor," he decided as his companion rose to his feet, and carefully placed his top-hat on the rack, then turned to McTaggart. "D'you mind this window down?" he asked. "Not at all--I should prefer it. It's close to-night." The stranger nodded. "I generally find it so in town--after Brighton, where I live."