She was greatly startled. It had never occurred to her that Fritz was quite as likely to arrive before Leo Ulford as Leo Ulford to arrive before Fritz. Why had she never thought of so obvious a possibility? She could not imagine. The difference between the actuality and her intense and angry conception of what it would be, benumbed her mind for an instant. She was completely confused. She sat still with the book of poems on her lap, and gazed at Lord Holme as he came towards her, taking long steps and straddling his legs as if he imagined he had a horse under him. The gay expression had abruptly died away from her face and she looked almost stupid. “Hulloa!” said Lord Holme, as he saw her. She said nothing. “Thought you were goin’ to the Blaxtons to-night,” he added. She made a strong effort and smiled. “I meant to, but I felt tired after the opera.” “Why don’t you toddle off to bed then?” “I feel tired, I don’t feel sleepy.” Lord Holme stared at her, put his hand into his trousers pocket and pulled out his cigarette-case. Lady Holme knew that he had been in a good humour when he came home, and that the sight of her sitting up in the drawing-room had displeased him. She had seen a change come into his face. He had been looking gay. He began to look glum and turned his eyes away from her. “What have you been up to?” she asked, with a sudden light gaiety and air of comradeship. “Club--playin’ bridge,” he answered, lighting a cigarette. He shot a glance at her sideways as he spoke, a glance that was meant to be crafty. If she had not been excited and horribly jealous, such a glance would probably have amused her, even made her laugh. Fritz’s craft was very transparent. But she could not laugh now. She knew he was telling her the first lie that had occurred to him. “Lucky?” she asked, still preserving her light and casual manner. “Middlin’,” he jerked out. He sat down in an armchair and slowly stretched his legs, staring up at the ceiling. Lady Holme began to think rapidly, feverishly. Had he locked the front door when he came in? Very much depended upon whether he had or had not. The servants had all gone to bed. Not one of them would see that the house was closed for the night. Fritz was a very casual person. He often forgot to do things he had promised to do, things that ought to be done. On the other hand, there were moments when his memory was excellent. If she only knew which mood had been his to-night she thought she would feel calmer. The uncertainty in which she was made mind and body tingle. If Fritz had remembered to lock the door, Leo Ulford would try to get in, fail, and go away. But if he had not remembered, at any moment Leo Ulford might walk into the room triumphantly with the latch-key in his hand. And it was nearly half-past twelve. She wished intensely that she knew what Fritz had done. “What’s up?” he said abruptly. “Up?” she said with an uncontrollable start. “Yes, with you?” “Nothing. What d’you mean?”