"Did you see what was in it?"

"The countess did--as probably Jane Simmons told you."

"That woman!"

"That woman! She came to see me the other day."

"What?"

"We had rather an interesting conversation. She's going to be married."

"Going to be married? To----"

He left the sentence unfinished, and the name unspoken; she smiled and nodded, as if she understood.

"I shouldn't be surprised; it's as likely to be him as anybody else.

She's going to turn over a new leaf."

"Is she?"

"She's going to America with her husband."

"Are you sure of that?"

"I think she must have got married the very next day, and started the day after, because only the other morning a little box came through the post, postmarked Pittsburg, and in it was a piece of wedding cake, with a card on which was written, 'With the compliments of Julia Spurrier and her husband.'"

"Who was Julia Spurrier?"

"She was Jane Simmons; I dare say she had one or two other names besides, within your knowledge."

"She had. You understood what kind of person she was?"

"Perfectly; she made me understand."

"And I dare say she told you one or two things about me."

"She did--one or two; but we're coming to that presently. I want you first to explain to me how you got Mr. Draycott out of the house that night."

"I was rushing off to get something to wrap him in when I met you. I heard you and Reith go into that room, and I heard you both go out--I was outside the window. Directly you left it, I opened the window, picked up Draycott, carried him out, closed the window again--and it was done."

"I see--you call that done. But how did you manage to get him away from the neighbourhood of the house?"

"There was a motor-car a little way along the path, about as silent a one as there is made; I put him in that and off I went."

"Nothing could be simpler, could it? But why did you trouble to take him at all? What affair was he of yours? It wasn't as though he had treated you very nicely."

"Don't you see that it was the chance of my life?"

"The chance of your life? Good gracious! How?"

"That poker business--they said I cheated; it was a lie--an infernal lie."

"They've admitted it themselves to-night."

"They hadn't admitted it then, and I never thought I should have a chance of making them do it, until I saw that dear man Dodwell doing his best to murder Draycott as he lay there on the floor. Well, then, it was a wild-cat idea, but it was an idea. I thought that if I could get hold of Draycott, and he wasn't quite dead, and I could bring him back to life, he might feel some--some sort of grat.i.tude. It was Draycott who supported Dodwell; I don't think they would ever have believed him if it hadn't been for Draycott. I fancy there wasn't a man in the regiment who hadn't a sort of feeling that Dodwell was a liar; it was Draycott's endors.e.m.e.nt of his lie that did it."

She could see, when he paused, how the muscles of his face were working, and how his fingers twitched as he clenched and unclenched his hands.

"When I started to think afterwards, when h.e.l.l was all about me, at first it was all a blur, I couldn't think how it could have happened--all of it; it was so--so impossible that they could have thought such a thing of me. Then, by degrees, I began to put trifles together, and to get some sort of a vague idea how--how it had all come about."

He pressed his hands to his temples; she fancied it must have become a trick with him; he had done it once or twice before, even when they were in the cab.

"I'd had a row with Dodwell about some money which he said I owed him; as you know, I owed pretty nearly everybody money, but I was quite sure I didn't owe him any. The way in which he made out that I did, did credit to something besides his financial genius. I had a suspicion that Draycott had had a row with him of the same kind. He had told me that he would be even with me for the position which I had taken up; and I began to see, afterwards, when I--I was looking for crusts in the gutter, that that lie he had told was his way of getting even, and I began to wonder if Draycott had backed it because Dodwell had got him under his thumb."

He gave a great sigh, which was the most eloquent thing he had done yet; there was something about the matter-of-fact way in which he did it which showed that, at any rate, that was an habitual trick of his.

The abomination of desolation which, it suggested, was in his very soul, moved the girl with a sudden pain which seemed to go right through her.

"When, as I've said, I saw Dodwell hammering Draycott, the wild-cat idea came to me that, if I did Draycott a good turn, he might be disposed to do me another; Dodwell would have killed him if it hadn't been for me, so he did owe me something, if he was to owe me nothing more. If he would only own to me, between ourselves, that he hadn't seen me do what he said he had, that would be some satisfaction. I didn't like to feel that there was any possibility that he really believed that I was--that kind of thing; if he would admit to me, in private, that he had spoken in haste, that he might have been in error, I should have been a happier man. The reality surpa.s.sed all my expectations."

A wintry smile pa.s.sed over his face; he stood up straighter; but he continued to speak in the halftones of the man from whose life all the salt has gone.

"Draycott turned out a perfect trump. We had a pretty tough time--the landlady here, who's a dear, good old soul, the doctor, and I between us--in pulling him through; Dodwell had used him cruelly, he will carry some of the scars with him to the grave--but it was a labour of love. I hadn't been so happy for I don't know how long; I had never thought I should be so happy again, as I was as I sat by Draycott's bedside, sometimes all night and sometimes all day, watching him, slowly, come back to life again. You see, it was the first thing I had done of which I hadn't cause to be ashamed for ever so long. Directly he was safe he told me the whole story, which I expect you heard to-night. He's behaved like a trump."

"I suppose it doesn't strike you that, in any degree, or in any sense, you've behaved like a trump?"

"I had a motive for what I did. Draycott's father is a big bug over in New South Wales. They've been telegraphing to each other, he and his father, spending no end of money on wires. It seems that the old man heard that he was missing and got flurried; but they've made that all right by telegram. Draycott's going back to his father; he is the only son, his father has big interests, and wants him, and he hasn't made a very good thing of soldiering; so Draycott's going back. And, what is much more--to me--I'm going with him."

"Sydney! Really?"

"Very really--thanks to Draycott. I couldn't stay in England--now; and I wouldn't. I've made such a mess of things that I shouldn't be able to breathe if I stayed. I want to put the old things behind me, and to get into a new world, and a new life."

There was silence; he seemed to be straining his eyes with the effort to see the new life for which he longed.

"And that means?"

"That means that the man you knew is dead."

"Is he? I wonder! Sydney?" He did not speak, but he looked at her.

"Have you ever thought of me during all you've gone through?"

"Before I answer your question, as I will do presently, let me say what I've got to say. I'm a criminal."

The girl rose quickly from her seat.

"And let me tell you that I won't let you say it--I will not. You answer my question, and then we'll say something to each other. Answer me--did you ever think of me when, as you put it yourself, you were picking crusts out of the gutter?"

"It's not a fair question."

"Why?"