“Nerves,” she smiled away his bewilderment. “What I really meant was, don’t say anything. For if you told Smith to tell him in an hour’s time we’ve still half an hour or so together”--she held up her wrist to the candlelight--“yes, just about that, and then there will be quite enough talking and discussing. And I’ve got something important to tell you, too, before he comes in--but, dear, I must enjoy just a little peace before the storm that will set me free, my first bit of peace in two years.” She pleaded with him, and it was delicious to hear Joan pleading, she who was usually so calm and sensible. And so they sat very close, hand in hand, like children. But Smith’s idea of an hour was influenced by a not unnatural desire to go to bed; and they had not enjoyed their peace for more than five minutes when it was tremendously shattered by footfalls on the stairs. “Oh, Lord!” muttered Hugo Carr. But rather comically, for, after all, it had to be got over some time. Joan went queerly taut, and began to say something, very swiftly, but the door opened just then and he did not catch what it was. Entered Smith--only Smith! And Hugo Carr breathed relief that his point of honour had not yet grown a point. Joan made no sign. Smith came forward quickly. The candles flickered uneasily across his face. He addressed Hugo Carr. “Sir,” he said quickly, “I went in to announce you to Mr. Loyalty----” He broke off, and his eyes hovered over Joan. “Yes, Smith?” she encouraged him softly. Smith’s eyes still hovered about her, he seemed very perturbed. He addressed the air between them. “Mr. Loyalty’s dead,” said Smith. Smith was not a heartless man. He was moved, and plunged again into the startled silence: “I went in and found him with his head laid across the writing-table and a little bottle empty by his hand. I shook ’im....” “My God!” muttered Hugo Carr. But still his eyes were fixed on Smith, he could not look at Joan. An analysis of suicide was not among Smith’s duties. He only added: “I have telephoned to Dr. Gay, madam, and as he was out playing bridge I asked Mrs. Gay to ring him up to come here, as it was very urgent.” Wise Smith! What could be more noncommittal than “very urgent” for suicide? “My God!” muttered Hugo Carr--and jumped up and strode away to the fireplace. He had not yet looked at Joan. But Smith looked at her, and she back at him. Smith was a nice man, and he respected his mistress immensely, her _kind_. “I am very sorry indeed, madam,” said Smith. Joan’s lips scarcely moved. “Thank you, Smith.” Smith went out softly. “I never dreamt----” Hugo Carr burst out, then choked. It was as though he had swept his arm round to ward off an intolerable thing and had found the thing too intolerable. Joan went to him.