'I was awfully glad to get your note. As I told you, I called here about a month ago, and I should have called again. I didn't care to write until I heard from you. You've been ill, I can see. I heard about it. Awfully sorry.'

Alma saw that he intended respectful behaviour. The fact of being in her own house was, of course, a protection, but Dymes, she quite understood, had altered in mind towards her. She treated him distantly, yet without a hint of unfriendliness.

'I began to wonder whether I had missed a letter of yours. It's some time since you promised to write--on business.'

'The fact is,' he replied, 'I kept putting it off, hoping to see you, and it's wonderful how time slips by. I can hardly believe that it's more than a year since your recital. How splendidly it came off! If only you could have followed it up--but we won't talk about that.'

He paused for any remark she might wish to make. Alma, dreamy for a moment, recovered herself, and asked, in a disinterested tone----

'We paid all expenses, I suppose?'

'Well--not quite.'

'Not quite? I understood from you that there was no doubt about it.'

'I thought,' said Dymes, as he bent forward familiarly, 'that my silence would let you know how matters stood. If there had been anything due to you, of course I should have sent a cheque. We did very well indeed, remarkably well, but the advertising expenses were very heavy.' He took a paper from his pocket. 'Here is the detailed account.

I shouldn't have spent so much if I hadn't regarded it as an investment. You had to be boomed, you know--floated, and I flatter myself I did it pretty well. But, of course, as things turned out----'

Alma glanced over the paper. The items astonished her.

'You mean to say, then, that I am in your debt for a hundred and thirty pounds?'

'Debt be hanged!' cried Dymes magnanimously. 'That's all done with, long ago. I only wanted to explain how things were.'

Alma reddened. She was trying to remember the state of her banking account, and felt sure that, at this moment, considerably less than a hundred pounds stood to her credit. But she rose promptly.

'Of course, I shall give you a cheque.'

'Nonsense! Don't treat me like a regular agent, Mrs. Rolfe. Surely you know me better than that? I undertook it for the pleasure of the thing----'

'But you don't suppose I can accept a present of money from you, Mr Dymes?'

'Hang it! Just as you like, of course. But don't make me take it now, as if I'd looked in with my little bill. Send the cheque, if you must.

But what I really came for, when I called a few weeks ago, was something else--quite a different thing, and a good deal more important. Just sit down again, if you can spare me a few minutes.'

With face averted, Alma sank back into her chair. Harvey would give her the money without a word, but she dreaded the necessity of asking him for it. So disturbed were her thoughts that she did not notice how oddly Dymes was regarding her, and his next words sounded meaningless.

'By-the-bye, can we talk here?'

'Talk----?'

'I mean'--he lowered his voice--'are we safe from interruption? It's all right; don't look frightened. The fact is, I want to speak of something rather awkward--but it's something you ought to know about, if you don't already.'

'I am quite at leisure,' she replied; adding, with a nervous movement of the head, 'there will be no interruption.'

'I want to ask you, then, have you seen Mrs. Strangeways lately?'

'No.'

'Nor Mrs. Carnaby?'

'No.'

'I understand you've broken with them altogether? You don't want anything more to do with that lot?'

'I have nothing whatever to do with them,' Alma replied, steadying her voice to a cold dignity.

'And I think you're quite right. Now, look here--you've heard, I dare say, that I'm going to be married? Well, I'm not the kind of fellow to talk sentiment, as you know. But I've had fair luck in life, and I feel pretty pleased with myself, and if I can do anybody a friendly turn--anybody that deserves it--I'm all there. I want you just to think of me as a friend, and nothing else. You're rather set against me, I know; but try and forget all about that. Things are changed. After all, you know, I'm one of the men that people talk about; my name has got into the "directories of talent", as somebody calls them; and I have a good deal at stake. It won't do for me to go fooling about any more.

All I mean is, that you can trust me, down to the ground. And there's n.o.body I would be better pleased to help in a friendly way than you, Mrs. Rolfe.'

Alma was gazing at him in surprise, mingled with apprehension.

'Please say what you mean. I don't see how you can possibly do me any service. I have given up all thought of a professional career.

'I know you have. I'm sorry for it, but it isn't that I want to talk about. You don't see Mrs. Carnaby, but I suppose you hear of her now and then?'

'Very rarely.'

'You know that she has been taken up by Lady Isobel Barker?'

'Who is Lady Isobel Barker?'

'Why, she's a daughter of the Earl of Bournemouth, and she married a fellow on the Stock Exchange. There are all sorts of amusing stories about her. I don't mean anything shady--just the opposite. She did a good deal of slumming at the time when it was fashionable, and started a home for women of a certain kind--all that sort of thing. Barker is by way of being a millionaire, and they live in great style; have Royalties down at Bos...o...b.., and so on. Well, Mrs. Carnaby has got hold of her. I don't know how she managed it. Just after that affair it looked as if she would have a bad time. People cut her--you know all about that?'

'No, I don't. You mean that they thought----'

'Just so; they did think.' He nodded and smiled. 'She was all the talk at the clubs, and, no doubt, in the boudoirs. I wasn't a friend of hers, you know--I met her now and then, that was all; so I didn't quite know what to think. But it looked--_didn't_ it?'

Alma avoided his glance, and said nothing.

'I shouldn't wonder,' pursued Dymes, 'if she went to Lady Isobel and talked about her hard case, and just asked for help. At all events, last May we began to hear of Mrs. Carnaby again. Women who wanted to be thought smart had quite altered their tone about her. Men laughed, but some of them began to admit that the case was doubtful. At all events, Lady Isobel was on her side, and that meant a good deal.'

'And she went about in society just as if nothing had happened?'

'No, no. That would have been bad taste, considering where her husband was. She wasn't seen much, only talked about. She's a clever woman, and by the time Carnaby's let loose she'll have played the game so well that things will be made pretty soft for him. I'm told he's a bit of a globe-trotter, sportsman, and so on. All he has to do is to knock up a book of travels, and it'll go like wildfire.'

Alma had pulled to pieces a ta.s.sel on her chair.

'What has all this to do with me?' she asked abruptly.

'I'm coming to that. You don't know anything about Mrs. Strangeways either? Well, there _may_ be a doubt about Mrs. Carnaby, but there's none about Mrs. S. She's just about as bad as they make 'em. I could tell you things--but I won't. What I want to know is, did you quarrel with her?'

'Quarrel! Why should we have quarrelled? What had I to do with her?'

'Nothing about Redgrave?' asked Dymes, pushing his head forward and speaking confidentially.

'What do you mean?'