"_Don't_ call me that!"

"I'm sorry. Miss Roden, I've got something to say to you!"

"I don't want to hear it, I only want to get away!"

"You must listen, your whole life's at stake--and the Seraph's, too."

The mention of his name brought her to a momentary standstill.

"What is it?" she demanded.

"You must shut that door."

"I won't."

Elsie wrung her hands in desperation. Outside on the landing, three paces from where they were standing, Nigel Rawnsley had paused to light a cigarette.

"It's about--the woman who was here," she whispered as he began to descend the stairs.

"Was it you?"

Elsie shook her head.

"No, say it! say it! Yes or no."

The sound of Nigel's descending footsteps had abruptly ceased at the angle of the stairs.

"For God's sake come back inside here a minute!" Elsie implored her.

"I won't, it's no good; I shouldn't believe you whatever you said. If you weren't here, why did you say you were? And if you were---- Oh, let me go, let me go!"

With a smothered sob she broke away from Elsie's restraining hand and rushed precipitously down the stairs. Nigel tried to walk level with her, but she passed him and hurried out into the street. Elsie closed the door and walked with a heavy heart into the library. On a table by the window reposed the bouquet of flowers that Sylvia had brought--lilies, late roses and carnations, all white as the Seraph loved them. Taking them in her hand, she tiptoed out of the room and across the hall to the Seraph's door. He was still sleeping, but awoke in the early afternoon and inquired whether any one had called.

"The search-party," Elsie told him, forcing a smile.

"Who was there?"

"Young Mr. Rawnsley and two detectives."

"Was that all?"

The pathetic eagerness of his tone cut her to the quick.

"Wasn't it enough?" she asked indifferently.

The Seraph shielded his eyes from the light with one hand.

"I don't know. Sometimes I used to think I knew when other people--some people--were near me. I fancied--when I was asleep--I suppose it must have been a dream--I don't know--I fancied there was some one else quite close."

He turned restlessly on the bed and caught Elsie's fingers in a bloodless, wasted hand.

"How did you keep the search-party out?" he inquired.

"I didn't. They came in, and looked into every room. For some unaccountable reason," she added ironically, "Joyce was nowhere to be found."

"Were they surprised to see you here?"

"A little. I told them you were seedy and I'd called to inquire."

The Seraph lay silent till he had gathered sufficient strength to go on talking.

"I suppose they really thought you'd been here the whole time?"

"Oh no!"

"But how else...."

"I don't know," Elsie interrupted quickly. "You must ask _them_ who the woman was Mr. Rawnsley heard the first time he was here. They couldn't say it was me without suggesting that you and I were both compromised."

She sprinkled some scent on a handkerchief and bathed his forehead.

"Do you think you can get some more sleep, Seraph? I want to get you well as soon as possible, and then I must take you abroad. London in August isn't good for little boys."

"Where shall we go?"

"I must join Toby and Joyce at Rimini."

The Seraph sighed and closed his eyes.

"I can't go there yet. They'll be--frightfully happy--wrapped up in each other--all that sort of thing. I don't want to see them yet."

Elsie dropped no hint of the time that must elapse before Joyce was strong again or "frightfully happy."

"Where shall it be then?" she asked.

The Seraph pressed her fingers to his lips.

"You go there, Elsie. I must travel alone. I shall go to the East. I shan't come back for some time. If ever."

The effort of talking and the trend of the conversation had made him restless. Elsie smoothed his pillow, and rose to leave the room.

As he watched her walk to the door, his eyes fell for the first time on the bouquet of roses and lilies.

"Who brought those?" he inquired.

"I found them in the library," she answered.

"Is there no name?"