Myles and Miss Penfold walked a short distance into the Park and then seated themselves for a while--two ordinary looking figures not calculated to attract much notice, for, the day being cold, Myles was muffled up in a large ulster and May's dress, as previously noticed, was not conspicuous. Flip sat down on the grass at the back of them, apparently engaged in spelling out a dirty bit of newspaper, but in reality drinking in every word the lovers uttered. They were continuing a conversation begun when they first met. "Does this man suspect you?" said May, evidently referring to Dowker. "I'm afraid so," he replied gloomily, "and I cannot open my mouth to defend myself." "Why?" "Because my only defence would be an explanation of the events of that night, and I cannot explain." "Why not?" He remained silent, at which the girl turned pale. "Is there any reason--strong reason?" "Yes." "Is that reason--a woman?" Myles bowed his head. Miss Penfold grew a shade paler and laughed bitterly. "A pleasant reason to give me," she said, with a sneer. "I have given up all else for your sake, because I thought you loved me, and you--you--talk of another woman to me." "This is nonsense," he answered impatiently. "There is no love in the case; it simply involves the breaking of a promise given to a woman, and you would be the last to ask me to do that. Can you not believe in my honour?" May looked at him doubtfully. "Can I believe in any man's honour?" she replied sadly. "That depends who the man is," answered Myles quietly. "It is simply a case of Lovelace over again: "'I would not love thee dear so much, Loved I not honour more.' "It is absurd--quixotic--ridiculous--to talk about honour in these days, I grant you, but unfortunately I inherit loyal blood, and--well, I must ask you to trust me till I can speak." "And you will speak?" "Yes; if it comes to the worst," he replied with a slight shiver. The girl gave him her hand, which he took and pressed slightly. So thus, mutely, they made up their quarrel. All the foregoing conversation about honour was Greek to Flip, who, after some cogitation, came to the conclusion it was a scene out of a play. But now they began to talk on a subject more suited to his comprehension. "May," said Myles, "I want you to tell me all that Lady Balscombe did on--on that night." "The night when she eloped?" "Yes." "Let me see," said May, knitting her pretty brows, "we went to a ball--to Lady Kerstoke's." "At what time?" "Between nine and ten." "And what time did you leave?" "Very early--about half past ten; in fact, we were there only a few minutes. Lady Balscombe said she had a headache and went home. You know our house is only a few doors away. I expect she only went there to avert suspicion as to her elopement." "What happened when she came home?" "There was a woman waiting to see her in her boudoir." "A woman?" repeated Desmond; "who was she?"