A few moments later Pargeter burst into the room. "They declare that Peggy must have left Paris!" he exclaimed. "I thought as much," he went on, angrily. "I felt certain that she was only hiding! Of course I didn't like to say so--at first," and, as Vanderlyn remained silent, he came and flung himself in a chair close to the other man. "You see, Grid,"--his voice unconsciously lowered,--"she played me that trick once before--years ago! It was a regular bit of bad luck, the sort of thing that only seems to happen to me; other men escape. A woman came to our house,--we were living in London then,--an old friend of mine with whom I'd stupidly mixed up again; she brought a child with her, a squalling brat two or three months older than Jasper--Of course the child had nothing to do with me, but she said he had, and Peggy believed her!" he looked for sympathy to the silent man opposite to whom he was now sitting. "Did you ever hear of this before?" he asked suspiciously, "did Peggy ever tell you about it?" "No," said Vanderlyn. "This is the first time I have heard anything of it. How long did she stay away?" he forced himself to add, loathing himself the while: "Did she disappear like this--I mean, as she has done this time?" "Well, not exactly," said Pargeter reluctantly, "for one thing she took Jasper and his nurse with her, but not her maid. They went off to her aunt,--the aunt who brought her up, you know,--but for two days I hadn't a notion where she was! Then one of her brothers came to see me. It was all made as damned unpleasant for me as possible, but they were of course determined that she should come back to me, and so she did--after about a week. But she was never nice to me again," he added, moodily, "not that she ever was really nice to me before we married. It was the aunt who hunted me----" "Is there any special reason why Peggy should have thought of going away like that--now?" asked Vanderlyn in a strained voice. "No," exclaimed Pargeter, "of course there isn't! I've always been nice to her, as you know well, Grid,--much nicer, I mean, than most men would have been to a wife who was so--so--" he sought intently for a word, "so superior and--and unsympathetic. But lately I have been specially nice to her, for my sister, Sophy, you know, had written me a long screed,--I didn't bother to read it right through, making out that Peggy's heart was weak, and that I ought to be very careful about her. The very day I got the letter I went out and bought her that grey Limousine Lady Prynne was so keen I should take off her hands! Peggy always had everything she wanted," he repeated; "I didn't have a penny with her, but I've never grudged her anything. In fact I should be pleased if she spent more on her clothes than she seems to care to do, for I like to see a woman well trigged out." "Tom, I have a message for you," said Vanderlyn slowly, "a lady telephoned just now to say she's expecting you at five o'clock."