He knocked at the door of his wife’s boudoir, but receiving no answer, entered the luxurious little room and found it empty, but through the door leading into her bedroom he caught sight of Alicia walking up and down the floor. She had not removed her hat or even her gloves, and was nervously twisting the handle of her lace parasol as she walked restlessly about the room. The bedroom, if possible, was more luxurious than the boudoir. The red silk hangings, which had once belonged to the Empress Eugénie, had been paid for, not by Senator March’s money, as he had imagined, but with money made by the alleged sale of stocks by Colegrove. The mantel clock and candelabra, real Louis Quinze gems, had come from the same source, as had the great silver-framed mirror on the dressing-table which reflected Alicia’s pale face. Senator March entered the room without ceremony and took from his breast pocket the packet of letters and documents in Alicia’s handwriting, and handed them to her silently. She took them in her trembling hands, glanced at them and then gave them back to him. His face, although perfectly composed, had the same strange greyness about it which she had noticed as they sat together on the bank of the stream in the park. For the first time in her life Alicia March felt a desire to throw wide the doors of her soul and make a confession. She was frightened at the impulse, and would have restrained it, but her will power, usually so strong, was as feeble over this impulse as the hand of a child over a maddened horse. So far she had not spoken a word since the moment, less than an hour before, when the discovery had been made, but now she burst forth: "I don’t know what to say--he invested some money for me," she began breathlessly, and then went on, blundering, stammering and sobbing, to tell him her transactions with Colegrove. Her husband heard her incoherent story through, and when she stopped, panting and wringing her hands, he remained silent for a few minutes. Alicia turned her agonised face away from him, covering it with her hands. Presently the Senator spoke in a quiet voice: "Say not one word of this to any one. To-morrow I will acknowledge everything, only saying that the money was paid to me instead of to you, and that you are innocent. I shall resign my seat in the Senate--I am telegraphing to-night to the Governor of the State to that effect. It is much better for us not to meet again. I shall go to my ranch in the Sierras. I gave you a deed to this house when we were married, you remember, so it is yours, with everything in it, except my books, and I will give you an income to support it and to supply every reasonable wish you may have, but on one condition only." Alicia was looking at him with wide, wild eyes. "What is that condition?" she gasped. "That you make no effort whatever to see or communicate with me again. I shall leave this house to-morrow morning, never to re-enter it."