But Hugh was very wide-awake, after his meeting with the detective, and he did notice that the left hand which she extended to Pomfret lingered a little longer in his responsive clasp than did the right which she had given to him. Yes, it was obvious that their acquaintance had gone far. There was even, he fancied, an intelligent sympathy in their mutual glances. Pomfret was the lover, Hugh Murchison was simply the friend. Mr. Burton welcomed them heartily. "Just like old times," he cried in his rough, breezy fashion. "I've been like a fish out of water during Norah's absence. It was just like her to organise a little party, simply us four, to celebrate her return." It struck Hugh that his conviviality was just a trifle forced, that he seemed "jumpy" and nervous. Had he by chance spotted those two strangers in the High Street, and wondered what manner of men they were? Pomfret settled himself on the chesterfield beside Norah, in spite of her rather obvious signals to preserve a more discreet attitude. Ignorant of what was going to happen a few minutes hence, her great object was to conceal the fact that Jack should take the position of an acknowledged lover. In her secret heart, she was very apprehensive of Murchison. She knew he was suspicious of her, and he had a sort of elder brother affection for Pomfret. She was not by any means sure as to the lengths to which this fraternal feeling might lead him. It might even inspire him to evoke the assistance of the Pomfret family, and then the security of her present position might be menaced. The secret marriage was, after all, in the nature of a gamble. If things turned out as she expected, if the old aunt died in reasonable time, the odds were in her favour. She could twist Jack round her little finger. But nobody knew better than this astute young woman of the world that there is many a slip betwixt the cup and the lip. Something that she had not calculated, not foreseen, might happen at any moment, and her house of cards might tumble to the ground. Her adventurous life had taught her never to be too sure of momentary prosperity. She was a little bit nervous and "jumpy," like her brother, to-night. Her smile was a little forced, her high spirits rather assumed. The wedding-ring, the marriage certificate hidden from sight, were great assets. And yet, was it all just a little too good to be quite true? Murchison talked with the brother, desultory sort of talk, hardly conscious of what he was saying. His ears were straining for the sound of that eletric-bell which would herald the arrival of Davidson and his colleague. And it came very quickly. There was a loud, imperative peal. Burton started from his seat, and forgot his assumed good manners. "Who the devil is that?" he cried fiercely. "Do they want to knock the house down?" It was the vulgar exclamation of a very vulgar man.