"So there couldn't be any possible complications in your case." "One never can tell, sir--a name's a name and females are sometimes not over-particular." "Don't be an ass! Why, you ought to feel proud to be able to be of use to a charming lady. Where's your chivalry, Peter?" "I don't know, sir, but I do 'ope she's respectable," he answered miserably. "Of course she is. Don't you know a lady when you see one?" Peter shook his head tragically. "I'm sorry you feel like that about it," said Crichton. "It never occurred to me you would mind, and I haven't yet told you all. I not only gave the young lady your name but took it myself." "Took my name!" "Yes. At the nursing home I am known as Mr. Peter Thompkins. Pray that I don't disgrace you, Peter." "Oh, sir, a false name! If you get found out, they'll never believe you are hinnocent when you've done a thing like that. Of course, a gentleman like you hought to know his own business best, but it do seem to me most awful risky." "Well, it's a risk that had to be taken. It was a choice of evils, I grant you. Hah! I sniff breakfast; the bacon and eggs of my country await me. I am famishing, and I say, Peter, do try to take a more cheerful view of this business." "I'll try, sir." Crichton was still at breakfast when a short, red-haired young man fairly burst into the room. "Guy Campbell!" exclaimed Cyril joyfully. "Hullo, old chap, glad to see you," cried the newcomer, pounding Cyril affectionately on the back. "How goes it? I say, your telephone message gave me quite a turn. What's up? Have you got into a scrape? You look as calm as possible." "If I look calm, my looks belie me. I assure you I never felt less calm in my life." "What on earth is the matter?" "You won't have some breakfast?" "Breakfast at half-past eleven! No thank you." "Well, then, take a cigarette, pull up that chair to the fire, and listen--and don't play the fool; this is serious." "Fire away." "I want your legal advice, Guy, though I suppose you'll tell me I need a solicitor, not a barrister. I wish to get a divorce." "A divorce? Why, Cyril, I am awfully sorry. I had heard that your marriage hadn't turned out any too well, but I had no idea it was as bad as that. You have proof, I suppose." "Ample." "Tell me the particulars. I never have heard anything against your wife's character." "You mean that you have never heard that she was unfaithful to me. Bah, it makes me sick the way people talk, as if infidelity were the only vice that damned a woman's character. Guy, her character was rotten through and through. Her infidelity was simply a minor, though culminating, expression of it." "But how did you come to marry such a person?" "You know she was the Chalmerses' governess?" "Yes."