Accepting, or seeming to accept this explanation, the landlady withdrew, and Will paced thoughtfully about the floor. He was back in Switzerland, in the valley which rises to the glacier of Trient. Before him rambled Ralph Pomfret and his wife; at his side was Rosamund Elvan, who listened with a flattering air of interest to all he said, but herself spoke seldom, and seemed, for the most part, preoccupied with some anxiety. He spoke of Norbert Franks; Miss Elvan replied mechanically, and at once made a remark about the landscape. At the time, he had thought little of this; now it revived in his memory, and disturbed him. An hour passed. His patience was nearly at an end. He waited another ten minutes, then left the room, called to the landlady that he was going, and let himself out. Scarcely had he walked half a dozen yards, when he stood face to face with Franks. "Ah! Here you are! I waited as long as I could--" "I'll walk with you," said the artist, turning on his heels. He had shaken hands but limply. His look avoided Warburton's. His speech was flat, wearied. "What's wrong, Franks?" "As you've been in the studio, I daresay you know." "I saw something that surprised me." "_Did_ it surprise you?" asked Norbert, in a half-sullen undertone. "What do you mean by that?" said Will with subdued resentment. The rain had ceased; a high wind buffeted them as they went along the almost deserted street. The necessity of clutching at his hat might have explained Norbert's silence for a moment; but he strode on without speaking. "Of course, if you don't care to talk about it," said Will, stopping short. "I've been walking about all day," Franks replied; "and I've got hell inside me; I'd rather not have met you to-night, that's the truth. But I can't let you go without asking a plain question. _Did_ it surprise you to see that portrait smashed?" "Very much. What do you hint at?" "I had a letter this morning from Rosamund, saying she couldn't marry me, and that all must be over between us. Does _that_ surprise you?" "Yes, it does. Such a possibility had never entered my mind." Franks checked his step, just where the wind roared at an unprotected corner. "I've no choice but to believe you," he said, irritably. "And no doubt I'm making a fool of myself. That's why I shot out of your way this afternoon--I wanted to wait till I got calmer. Let's say good-night." "You're tired out," said Warburton. "Don't go any farther this way, but let me walk back with you--I won't go in. I can't leave you in this state of mind. Of course I begin to see what you mean, and a wilder idea never got into any man's head. Whatever the explanation of what has happened, _I_ have nothing to do with it." "You say so, and I believe you."