Miss Forster was silent. That her visitor's words had affected her disagreeably her behaviour showed. Showing Miss Spurrier her back, facing the mantelshelf, she pretended to be interested by the trifles which were on it, but to an observant eye few things can be more eloquent than a person's back; the twitching of her shoulders was in itself more than sufficiently eloquent. Even her speech betrayed her; it faltered. "Do you think--that he's left England?" "It's on the cards. It all depends on whether he's had the chance. If he has, let's hope he'll be able to cover his tracks. I suppose nobody does know anything." "How can I tell?" "Exactly, how can you? It's queer that nothing has been found--of the body." The girl said nothing, but again Miss Spurrier noticed the twitching shoulders. "There's one thing, nothing can be done till it is found; and as it looks as if it is in a sure place, he ought to have something like a start before trouble begins." The girl still continued silent. The visitor, holding out her gorgeous parasol, began to fasten the elastic band. "Miss Forster, I am going away. I don't mean only from this room, but out of the country; I'm leaving England." "Are you?" The girl's tone could scarcely have been more void of interest, but the other still kept her eyes upon her back. "I'm going to be married." "Indeed." "I am going to be married to an old friend with whom I have been associated in some rather successful--matters; so, as we've got quite a nice little capital together, we've decided to turn over a new leaf. We're going to America, to a town in one of the middle States, where we have, both of us, reason to believe that there's an opening for an enterprising couple. We are going to start in the dry goods--a store. It's a trade in which we may both of us be able to show even the Americans a thing or two. We hope, by strict attention to business, to do well." The visitor paused, but the girl said nothing; she still kept her face turned away. "Of course, my prospects and intentions don't interest you, but now that I'm going to put the old things behind me and begin a new life, and leave England for ever--for we both of us intend at the earliest possible moment to become American citizens; you do get such a pull on the other side if you are a citizen--since you and I are alone together for probably the last time in our lives, there are one or two things which I should like to tell you about Mr. Beaton. That's one of the reasons why I wanted to see you. Wouldn't you like to hear them?" "It depends on what they are. I should advise you to be careful what you say of him." "Oh, I'll be careful. To begin with, Mr. Beaton is a gentleman, as I dare say you know." "What do you suppose?"