"Why, Henry!" His friend gave a cry of surprise. And then to cover it he said: "You are just in time for breakfast. Another knife and fork, Portman. Take off your overcoat." The young man had no wish to do so. He remembered that his evening clothes were under it. Nor had he any desire for breakfast. As soon as the servant had retired, Edward Ambrose compelled him firmly but kindly to eat. Ambrose had noted already that the Sailor was in a decidedly overwrought state. The ashen face, the wild eyes, the disheveled appearance was not pleasant to see. "Tell me what has happened." "Before I do that," said the young man, in a voice unlike his own, "I want you to consider this a secret between us." "Yes ... of course." "To begin at the beginning of a rotten story." There was a queer break in the voice. "You didn't know that I was married, did you?" "No," said Ambrose, impassively. "I dare say I ought to have told you. Several times I made up my mind that I would. I am very sorry now I didn't." "You were under no obligation to do so." "There wouldn't be so much to tell you now if I had," said the Sailor, with horror in his eyes. He then told his story at length, with detail and with difficulty, but concealing nothing. Edward Ambrose was much affected. He somehow felt, as a generous mind was likely to feel in such a case, that it should have been his part to shield this lamb from the wolves. Yet he knew that blame did not lie at his door. Still, he was deeply grieved. He accepted the story without question as it was told him. There could be no doubt that all the essential facts were exactly as they had been related. Harper, in his curious ignorance of the world, had fallen into a trap. The young man ended the story with a pathetic appeal for advice. He made it clear that he could never go back to this woman; he dared not even venture to see her again lest he do her violence. He must get free of her at all costs. Could his friend tell him how such a thing must be managed? "One feels it ought not to be very difficult in the circumstances," said Edward Ambrose, "if we go the right way to work. But the first thing is to consult a lawyer." Accordingly, before he had finished a greatly interrupted meal, Ambrose went to the telephone and arranged to see his own solicitor as soon as that gentleman should arrive at his office in Spring Gardens. When he returned to the dining-room, he found Henry Harper striding up and down it. A sort of determined rage had taken possession of him. The hereditary forces that had so nearly overthrown him a few hours before had returned upon him. "I'll never be so near murder as I was between twelve and one last night," he said, huskily, with a clenched and deadly look.