"You don't understand," said Jack, in a dull, hard voice. "I believed that Diane was dead."

"Of course you did--you showed me the paragraph in the _Pet.i.t Journal_."

"I considered myself a free man--free to marry again."

"Whew! Go on!"

Jack was strangely calm as he took out his keys and unlocked a cabinet over his desk. He silently handed his friend a photograph.

"By Jove, what a lovely face!" muttered Jimmie.

"That is the best and dearest girl in the world," said Jack. "I thought I was done with women until I met her, a short time ago. We love each other, and we were to be married in September. And now--My G.o.d, this will break her heart! It has broken mine already, Jimmie! Curse the day I first put foot in Paris!"

"My poor old chap, this _is_--"

That was all Jimmie could say. He vaguely realized that he was in the presence of a grief beyond the power of words to comfort. There was a suspicious moisture in his eyes as he turned abruptly to the table and mixed himself a mild stimulant. He drank it slowly to give himself time to think.

Jack thrust the photograph into the breast pocket of his coat. He rubbed one hand through his hair, and kicked an easel over. He burst into a harsh, unnatural laugh.

"This is a rotten world!" he cried. "A rotten world! It's a stage full of actors, and they play d---- little but tragedy! I've found my long-lost wife again, Jimmie! Rejoice with me!"

He poured three fingers of neat brandy into a gla.s.s and drank it at a gulp. Then the mocking laughter died on his lips, and he threw himself into a chair. He buried his face in his hands, and his body shook with the violence of the sobs he was powerless to stifle.

"It will do him good," thought Jimmie.

The clock ticked on, and at intervals there was the rumble of trains pa.s.sing to and from Ravenscourt Park station, and the clang of distant tram-bells. The voice of mighty London mocked at Jack's misery, and he conquered his emotions. He lifted a defiant face, much flushed.

"I've made a beastly fool of myself, Jimmie."

"Not a bit of it, old chap. Brace up; some one is coming." He had heard a cab stop in the street.

There were rapid steps on the stairs, and Nevill entered the studio. His face was eloquent with sympathy, and he silently held out a hand. Jack gripped it tightly.

"Thanks, Vic," he said, gratefully. "Where did--did you take her?"

"To her lodgings, off Regent street. And then I came straight on here.

I thought she was dead, Jack. I don't wonder you're upset."

"Upset? It's worse than that. If I were the only one to suffer--"

"Then there's another woman?"

"Yes!"

"That's bad! I didn't dream of such a thing. I can't tell you how sorry I feel."

Nevill sat down and lighted a cigar; he thoughtfully watched the smoke curl up.

"I suppose I could get a divorce?" Jack asked, savagely.

"No doubt of it, but--"

"But you wouldn't advise me to do it. No, you're right. I couldn't stand the publicity and disgrace."

"I would like to choke her," muttered Jimmie.

"I had a talk with her on the way to town," said Nevill. "She has been in London for a month, and knew your address all the time, but did not wish to see you. Now she is hard up, and that is why she made herself known to you to-night."

"What became of the scoundrel she ran away with? Did he desert her?"

"Yes," Nevill answered, after a brief hesitation.

"Do you know who he was?"

"She intimated that he was a French Count. I believe she has had several others since, and the last one left her stranded."

"She wants money, then?"

"Rather. That's her game. She knows she has no legal claim on you, and for a fixed sum I think she will agree to return to Paris and not molest you in future."

"I don't care what becomes of her," Jack replied, bitterly, "but I am determined not to see her again. Let her understand that, and tell her that I will give her three hundred pounds on condition that she goes abroad and never shows her face in England again. And another thing, there must be no further appeals to me."

"Bind her tight, in writing," suggested Jimmie.

"It's asking a lot of you, Nevill," said Jack, "but if you don't mind--"

"My dear fellow, it is a mere trifle. I will gladly help you in the matter to my utmost power, and I only wish I could do more."

"That's the way to talk," put in Jimmie. "Can I be of any a.s.sistance, Nevill? I've a persuasive sort of way with women--"

"Thanks, but I can manage much better alone, I think." Nevill took a memorandum book from his pocket, and turned over the pages. "Trust all to me, Jack," he added. "I am free to-morrow after four o'clock. I will see Diane--your wife--fix the terms with her, and come down in the evening to report to you."

"What time?"

"That is uncertain. But you will be here?"

"Yes; I shall expect you," said Jack. "I can't thank you enough. It's a blessing for a chap to have a couple of friends like you and Jimmie."

"You would do as much for me," replied Nevill. "I'm going to see you through your trouble."

Jack walked abruptly to the open window, and looked out into the starry night.

"What does it matter," he thought, "whether I am rid of Diane or not? I have lost my darling. Madge is dead to me. I can't grasp it yet. How can I tell her?--how can I live without her?"

"Are you going up to town, Jimmie?" Nevill asked. "My cab is waiting, and you can share it."

"No; I shall stop with poor old Jack," Jimmie replied. "I don't like to leave him alone."

"That's good of you. It's a terrible blow, isn't it?"