“No, no—by all means,” quickly responded the old man eagerly. “I just wanted to see if she would not go in and refresh herself first. Allow me to advise Lady Poynter. The poor girl seems regularly done.” “Oh, thank you, no, sir,” put in Kate, waving a protest; “I can stop only a moment. I must return to town on the next train, sir.” “But you really can’t, you know,” said Sir Nelson. “You really must not think of returning without luncheon—it’s about ready, you know. I shall advise Lady Poynter that you are come,” and he hurried off. “Well?” asked Fair when Kate looked up at him. “Tell me, Kate—and tell me quickly and without hesitation, for nothing can shock me now. So the worst of it—all of it—at once!” “Where is Mrs. Fair?” Kate asked, with a look which begged piteously that the reply to her question be what she hoped. “She is here? Say that she is here!” “Here?” cried out Fair, now thoroughly alarmed, a certain suspicion that had been gathering force shaping itself into something like certainty in his mind. “Here. Did she not start for Paris with you and the children? What can you mean?” Kate struggled with the dreadful fears that were choking her. “We all left the house together in the carriage and drove to the railway station, but there Mrs. Fair said that she wished to drive to a chemist’s shop, and we were to wait for her speedy return. She went off accordingly, and about twenty minutes later the carriage came back and John fetched this letter from Mrs. Fair to me. Take it and read it—it says that she desired me to take the children to Mrs. Barrington’s, and announced that she would communicate her change of plans to you. Oh, Mr. Fair, what does it all mean? I can bear little more of this suspense!” “Poor old Janet!” groaned Fair, taking but not reading the letter which Kate handed to him. He walked up and down for a few seconds, then coming back to Kate said: “I see. I see it now. My God, what a woman! Wait here, dear, until I consult Sir Nelson, for we’ve got to act with life for the spur. This is a race, Kate—the maddest ever run!” “But, Mr. Fair—Maxwell,” complained Kate, “tell me what it all means! I know about—that horror, you know, in the chest. I saw it. But no harm shall come to you, Maxwell, for I told them at Scotland Yard that it was not you—and they told me that they believed me.” Fair jumped forward and could not believe what he heard, but the triumph on her poor little agonized face showed only too clearly that what she said was true. “Scotland Yard?” he finally cried out. “Are you mad?” Then with a wild hysterical laugh that chilled her, he added: “So you kindly assured them that I was innocent, did you?”