“How dare you bring me here? Have you no regard for my reputation?” He changed color at her tone and words, but curbed his own temper admirably. “In bringing you here I forgot everyone but the person for whom _you_ show the greatest consideration--Madame Yvonett,” he replied gently, and a low cry escaped her. “How could I take you to your home looking more dead than alive? The shock might have killed your aunt.” “I had not thought of that,” she conceded. “I have a dim recollection of driving on and on.” “So we did. I put you in the cab intending to go at once to your home; then a glimpse of your face convinced me that while you looked frightfully ill, you were really only suffering from collapse. I told the coachman to drive up and down the back streets, forced you to drink a little whiskey which I had in my flask, and that, and the cold wind, gradually brought you around. These rooms of mine are on the ground floor, and I slipped you in here unnoticed.” Marjorie studied him covertly as the events of the morning slowly recurred to her. Had he been in the Fordyce house when Janet testified before the Calhoun-Coopers and Mr. Fordyce that she had seen her steal the pearl necklace? “Why did you not take me back to the Fordyces?” she asked. “That occurred to me,” admitted Barnard, “but to be quite frank I thought that your arriving there with me in the condition you were in would cause adverse criticism. The same consideration deterred me from taking you to a hospital.” “I see,” slowly. “Perhaps you acted for the best, but----” “I may not have been wise,” he broke in, “but I was greatly alarmed. I at first feared that you were dead as you lay there in the carriage. At the thought my whole world crumbled to dust,” his voice vibrated with emotion. “I never realized how much you were to me until I thought I had lost you....” he faltered and broke down, moved beyond himself by his passion. He dropped on his knee beside her--“Best beloved!” She shrank back under his touch. “Don’t, don’t Chichester,” she implored. “I am not strong enough for more scenes,” and hysterical sobs wracked her from head to foot. Barnard stood up and watched her in growing concern until she regained some semblance of self-control. “It’s a relief to cry,” she stammered. “My own sweetheart,” he murmured fondly. “Would to heaven I could bear your sorrows for you. Won’t you tell me what is troubling you?” Marjorie paused; would Barnard take her word against Janet’s? Her loyal trust in him had made her at first slow to believe he was seriously courting Janet, but once convinced of his double dealing, indignation and contempt had supplanted all warmer feeling for him. Barnard still kept up the pretense of his affection for her, but was it likely he would take her part against Janet? She rose and moved unsteadily across the room that she might get a better look at him, and study his expression.