"Well, I called you a fool," grinned Cyril. "So you did, so you did, and may I live to acknowledge that I richly deserve the appellation." And so their interview terminated with unexpected friendliness. CHAPTER XIII CAMPBELL REMONSTRATES In his note to Guy, Cyril had asked the latter to join him at his club as soon as he had left Priscilla at the hotel, and so when the time passed and his friend neither came nor telephoned, Cyril's anxiety knew no bounds. What could have happened? thought Cyril. Had Priscilla been arrested? In that case, however, Guy would surely have communicated with him at once, for the police could have had no excuse for detaining the latter. Several acquaintances he had not seen for years greeted him cordially, but he met their advances so half-heartedly that they soon left him to himself, firmly convinced that the title had turned his head. Only one, an old friend of his father's, refused to be shaken off and sat prosing away quite oblivious of his listener's preoccupation till the words "your wife" arrested Cyril's wandering attention. "Yes," the Colonel was saying, "too bad that you should have this added worry just now. Taken ill on the train, too--most awkward." Cyril was so startled that he could only repeat idiotically: "My wife?" "Am I wrong?" exclaimed the Colonel, evidently at a loss to understand Cyril's perturbation. "Your wife is in town, isn't she, and ill?" What should he answer? He dared not risk a denial. "Who told you that she was ill?" he asked. "It was in the morning papers. Didn't you see it?" "In the papers!" Cyril realised at once that he ought to have foreseen that this was bound to have occurred. Too many people knew the story for it not to have leaked out eventually. "I have not had time to read them to-day," replied Cyril as soon as he was able to collect his wits a little. "What did they say?" "Only that your wife had been prostrated by the shock of Wilmersley's murder, and had to be removed from the train to a nursing home." "It's a bore that it got into the papers. My wife is only suffering from a slight indisposition and will be all right in a day or two," Cyril hastened to assure him. "Glad to hear it. I must meet her. Where is she staying at present?" "She--she is still at the nursing home--but she is leaving there to-morrow." Then fearing that more questions were impending, Cyril seized the Colonel's hand and shaking it vehemently exclaimed: "I must write some letters. So glad to have had this chat with you," and without giving the Colonel time to answer, he fled from the room.