"Yes, I had intended to speak to Dr. McMasters; but when by the merest chance I saw you in there I told myself that, whatever our differences might be, there was no one who would understand the case more readily than you." As Mistrial spoke he imitated the discretion of his enemy; he looked down and away. The next moment, however, both were gazing into each other's face. "H'm." Thorold, as he stared, seemed to muse. "I saw her the other day," he said, at last; "she looked well enough then." "But can't a person look well and yet be out of sorts?" Mistrial was becoming angry, and he showed it. It was evident, however, that his irritation was caused less by the man to whom he spoke than by the physician whom he was seeking to consult. This Thorold seemed to grasp, for he answered perplexedly: "After what has happened I don't see very well how I can go to your house." "Look here, Thorold: the past is over and done with--ill done, you will say, and I admit it. Be that as it may, it has gone. At the same time there is no reason why any shadow of it should fall on Justine. She is really in need of some one's advice. Can you not give it to her?" "Certainly," Thorold answered, "I can do that;" and he looked very sturdy as he said it. "Only--" "Only what? If you can't go as a friend, at least you might go as a physician." Thorold's hand had slid from his cheek to his chin, and he nibbled reflectively at a finger-nail. "Very good," he said; "I will go to her. Is she to be at home this afternoon?" "The evening would be better, I think. Unless, of course--" and Mistrial made a gesture as though to imply that, if Thorold's evening were engaged, a visit in the afternoon might be attempted. But the suggestion presumably was acceptable. Thorold drew out a note-book, at which he glanced. "And I say," Mistrial continued, "I wish--you see, it is a delicate matter; Justine is very sensitive--I wish you wouldn't say you met me. Just act as though--" "Give yourself no uneasiness, sir." Thorold had replaced the note-book and looked up again in Mistrial's face. "I never mention your name." And thereat, with a toss of the head, he dodged an omnibus and crossed the street. For a moment Mistrial gazed after him, then he turned, and presently he was ordering a glass of brandy at the Brunswick bar. It was late that night when he reached his home. During the days that followed he had no fixed hours at all. Several times he entered the apartment with the smallest amount of noise that was possible, and listened at the sitting-room door. At last he must have heard something that pleased him, for as he sought his own room he smiled. "_Maintenant, mon cher, je te tiens._" The next day he surprised Justine by informing her that he intended to pay a visit to a relative. He was gone a week. IV.