"Well--" she began, determined if possible that he at least should never know the truth. "Yes?" he interjected eagerly. "Directly after lunch the day before yesterday," Cleopatra pursued, "--I must tell you we had curried chicken for lunch,--I felt a heavy sensation in the pit of my stomach. I felt sick and giddy, my hands grew cold, and about tea-time, I was walking in this very room, and my knees gave way." He looked at her beneath lowered brows, as he tugged at his mesh of hair. "So you think it is all a fit of indigestion," he said. She wondered whether he knew that she was lying. "Yes," she said. There was a pause, and he looked away from her. "Remember, Miss Delarayne," he muttered after a while, "that it will be difficult to start me off on a false scent, even if it is as savoury as curried chicken." Cleopatra started a little at this remark; she noticed his enigmatic smile, and her brows twitched nervously. "I don't see what you mean," she stammered. "I mean," said Lord Henry, his head still bowed, and his free hand picking imaginary atoms of fluff from his trousers, "that if you tell me the truth, our two heads may make some progress. If you deliberately mislead me, although the task will even then not be beyond the wit of man, it will be a little more difficult." "But I assure you, Lord Henry," she protested, "I am not trying to mislead you." "Come, Miss Delarayne, come!" he remonstrated. Then he added, after a pause, "But perhaps I am wrong in assuming that you should feel any confidence in me. After all, why should you?" She had never yet been in the presence of a man who inspired such complete confidence, or who made her desire so ardently to be up and about, active and well in his presence. Nevertheless her indomitable pride made her moderate the manner of her reply. "What can I say?" she exclaimed, pretending to be at the end of her resources. He flicked an imaginary feather from his knee. "Shall I prompt you?" he enquired. His coolness at once mastered and terrified her. "How can you!" she ejaculated, her resistance failing. "Why haven't you told me, for instance," he began, "that you have scarcely slept for five or six nights." Her mouth fell. "Lord Henry!" "Why haven't you said that last night, or perhaps for the last two nights, you have tried a certain narcotic without much success? Sleep is a very essential thing, Miss Delarayne. One cannot go without it with impunity. You probably realise that." She stammered the beginning of a denial, but the words died on her lips. She was too stiff with alarm to be able to speak. After all, vanity is a great power even in the noblest of us. "Miss Delarayne," Lord Henry continued, "you and I can keep a secret. I can at any rate. Let me see whether I cannot tell you why you have tried to mislead me."