“Come, ma’am, we’ve given you a good deal of indulgence. If you’re going to send the note give it to me, and if you think better of it please come down with us and let us get this business done with.” A voice from behind startled them all. “What business?” There was a cry from Audrey, an exclamation from the man with the warrant. Standing between the heavy curtains that divided the one showroom from the other was Gerard, very pale, very quiet, grasping the hangings tightly, and gazing steadily at the group in front of him. Brave as she had been, valiantly as she had resolved that she would not burst in upon him with the knowledge of the awful blow which had fallen upon her, Audrey was so overjoyed at the sight of her husband that, forgetting everything in the relief she felt, she dashed across the room and fell into his arms. “Oh, Gerard, Gerard! thank God you’ve come,” sobbed she. Gerard looked down at her for one second, and then again at the two men. “What is all this?” said he shortly. “Very sorry, sir. We’ve got a warrant for the arrest of the lady,” said the man who had taken the most prominent part in the affair, the man in the policeman’s boots. “Upon what charge?” Audrey, even at that moment of intense excitement, was amazed at the perfect calmness which Gerard showed. She had expected an outburst of indignation on his part, an angry repudiation of the insult put upon her; but instead of that, it seemed to her that he took the matter as coolly as if he had expected this to happen and had been quite prepared for it. “On the charge of being concerned in the disappearance of a woman known as Madame Rocada, otherwise the White Countess,” said the man. Gerard looked down at his wife, who was still clinging to him without uttering a word. “This is serious,” said he. “Oh, Gerard, surely----” moaned Audrey in a husky whisper. An unobtrusive but reassuring pressure of his fingers upon her arm checked her, and she, feeling the intense relief of having another arm, another brain at her service, remained silent, listening, wondering, while he went on:-- “Of course my wife--this lady is my wife--is entirely innocent of any hand in the disappearance of anybody. But, at the same time, I recognise that it is a serious matter. What is it she was asking you if she might do?” “Oh, Gerard, it doesn’t matter now,” sobbed out Audrey. “I--I wanted some one to break it gently to _you_, that was all. But now that you know, nothing matters, nothing matters. I was afraid it would be a shock to you, that’s all.” “Well, it is a shock, a great shock, naturally,” admitted Gerard. “You can understand this when I tell you,” and he turned to the two men, “that I am rejoining my wife to-day after a long absence.” Audrey was rather surprised at this unexpected and apparently uncalled-for confidence on her husband’s part, and she was still more astonished when he went on:--