"Now," said Sir Lewin, "kindly explain your presence here and your business with my wife." Allan's answer was unexpected. "I think," he said, quietly, "I will leave that to Lady Maxwell herself." They had spoken so far in low tones and with outward calm; now Sir Lewin muttered angrily some words which I could not hear, and raised his arm. [Illustration: "SIR LEWIN MUTTERED ANGRILY SOME WORDS WHICH I COULD NOT HEAR, AND RAISED HIS ARM."] I stepped forward. "Come into the drawing-room," I said hurriedly in his ear. "Don't make a public scene." He shook me off, but at that moment another and more importunate voice intervened. "My dear Lewin, you here? How exceedingly fortunate! Now we need not rush for that seven-thirty train; you and dear Edith can stay to dinner." There was a darkening of the doorway, a rustle of garments, and Mrs. Llewellyn advanced with outstretched hands. Sir Lewin stared in blank amazement. Allan smiled. "I was in the cab," went on the lady, "waiting for Edith. Mr. Fortescue kindly drove with me from the station, and I had intended to travel down with her, trusting, my dear Lewin, to your hospitality to put me up for the night. I am so sorry I have been unable to return before, to be with the dear child all the time." She had talked us all to the drawing-room door. "I still quite fail to see," began Sir Lewin, stiffly, "how Mr. Fortescue----" "I will explain," said Lady Maxwell. She had come down the stairs unheard, and now advanced towards us. Her face was as white as the gown she wore, her eyes looked wild and startled. "Come with me," she added to Sir Lewin, and led the way to a small back room. He followed her without a word. "Pay the cab," said Mrs. Llewellyn, cheerfully, to the servant, "and bring all those packages in. Sir Lewin and Lady Maxwell will remain to dinner. Mr. Greyling and Mr. Fortescue, please come in, and let me offer you some refreshment." She moved towards the dining-room and, the door being safely closed, fell gasping into a chair. There was wine upon the side-board; Allan poured some into a glass and brought it to her. She sighed heavily as she took it. "How all this is to end, Heaven only knows!" "I think," said Allan, "there is nothing further for me to do. If you will allow me I will bid you good-night." She looked at him curiously, the wineglass half-way to her lips. "Can you," she said, "trust your vindication to us?" "Entirely. It has come to be the last thing I think about," he answered, sadly; "and, if she may in any degree be spared, I beg that it may be the very last thing in your mind also." A few minutes later Allan and I left the house. We dined in town and travelled back to Stony Lea together; but he offered me no explanation of the events of the afternoon, and I respected his silence. Nearly a week passed before I heard anything further about the matter.