“Just the same, Chase,” said Britt, after a long silence, “he’s worried, and not about marriage or divorce, either.  He’s jealous.  I didn’t believe it was in him.”

“See here, Britt, you’ve no right to stir him up with those confounded remarks about divorce.  You know that it’s rot.  Don’t do it.”

“My dear Chase,” said Britt, waving his hand serenely, “we can’t always see what’s in the air, but, by the Eternal, we usually can feel it.  ’Nough said.  Give you my word, I can’t help laughing at the position you’re in at present.  It doesn’t matter what you get onto in connection with our side of the case, you’re where you can’t take advantage of it without getting killed by your own clients.  Horrible paradox, eh?”

When Deppingham rejoined them, he was pale and very nervous.  His wife, who had been weeping, came up with him, while Browne went off toward the stables with the ex-banker.

“What do you think has happened?” demanded his lordship, addressing the two men, who stood by, irresolutely.  “Somebody’s trying to poison us!”

“What!” from both listeners.

“I’ve said it all along.  Now, we know!  Lady Deppingham’s dog is dead—­poisoned, gentlemen.”  He was wiping the moisture from his brow.

“I’m sorry, Lady Deppingham,” said Chase earnestly.  “He was a nice dog.  But I hardly think he could have eaten what was intended for any of us.  If he was poisoned, the poison was meant for him and for no one else.  He bit one of the stable boys yesterday.  It—­”

“That may all be very true, Chase,” protested his lordship, “but don’t you see, it goes to show that some one has a stock of poison on hand, and we may be the next to get it.  He died half an hour after eating—­after eating a biscuit that was intended for me!  It’s—­it’s demmed uncomfortable, to say the least.”

“Mr. Bowles has been questioning the servants,” said Lady Agnes miserably.

“Of course,” said Chase philosophically, “it’s much better that Pong should have got it than Lord Deppingham.  By the way, who gave him the biscuit?”

“Bromley.  She tossed it to him and he—­he caught it so cleverly.  You know how cunning he was, Mr. Chase.  I loved to see him catch—­”

“Then Bromley has saved your life, Deppingham,” said Chase.  “I’m sure you need the brandy, after all this.  Come along.  Will you join us, Lady Deppingham?”

“No.  I’m going to bed!” She started away, then stopped and looked at her husband, her eyes wide with sudden comprehension.  “Oh, Deppy, I should have died!  I should have died!”

“My dear!”

“I couldn’t have lived if—­”

“But, my dear, I didn’t eat it—­and here we are!  God bless you!” He turned abruptly and walked off beside her, ignoring the two distressed Americans.  As they passed through the French window, Deppingham put his arm about his wife’s waist.  Chase turned to Britt.