'It doesn't seem very likely.' 'What is the punishment for manslaughter?' 'That depends. The case will go for trial, and--in the meantime----' 'What?' asked Alma, raising herself. 'The woman _may_ be found.' There was another silence. Then Alma asked---- 'Do you think I ought to write to Sibyl?' 'No,' he answered decisively. 'You must write to no one. Put it all out of your mind as much as possible.' 'Shall you see Mr. Carnaby?' 'Only if he sends for me.' And this was just what happened. Admitted to bail by the magistrate, Hugh presently sent a note from Oxford and Cambridge Mansions, asking his friend to see him there. Harvey did not let Alma know of it. He found some difficulty in getting away from home for a couple of hours, so anxious had she become to keep him within call, and, when he of necessity went out, to be informed of his movements. He attributed this to her morbid condition; for, in truth, Alma was very ill. She could take only the lightest food, and in the smallest quantities; she fell repeatedly into fits of silent weeping; she had lost all strength, and her flesh had begun to waste. On this same day Harvey heard that Mrs Frothingham was making ready to come, and the news relieved him. On reaching the Carnabys', he was admitted by the same servant whose behaviour had excited his suspicions a day or two ago. Without a word she conducted him to Hugh's room. 'Well, old man,' said the familiar voice, though in the tone of one who is afraid of being overheard, 'it has come to this, you see. You're not surprised? What else could be expected of a fellow like me, sooner or later?' His face had the marks of sleeplessness; his hand was hot. He pressed Harvey into a chair, and stood before him, making an obvious effort to look and speak courageously. 'It never struck me before how devilish awkward it is for a man in his own home when he gets into a public scrape--I mean the servants. One has to sit under them, as usual, you know, and feel their eyes boring into one's back. Did you ever think of it?' 'How long have you to wait?' asked Rolfe. 'Only a fortnight. But there may be bother about that woman. I wish to God they could catch her!' Harvey made no reply, and his eyes wandered. In a moment he became aware that Hugh was looking at him with peculiar intentness. 'I wish I could do anything for you, Carnaby.' 'You can,' replied the other, with emphasis, his face growing stern. 'What is it?' 'Get rid of that ugly thought I see you have in your mind.' Hugh's voice, though still cautious, had risen a little; he spoke with severity that was almost harshness. Their eyes met. 'What ugly thought?'