He knew that his supper would be only the prelude to an interminable “talking over,” and indeed he did not get to bed until nearly two.  By that time a course of action was already agreed upon.  Mrs. Chaffery was tied to the house in Clapham by a long lease, and thither they must go.  The ground floor and first floor were let unfurnished, and the rent of these practically paid the rent of the house.  The Chafferys occupied basement and second floor.  There was a bedroom on the second floor, formerly let to the first floor tenants, that he and Ethel could occupy, and in this an old toilet table could be put for such studies as were to be prosecuted at home.  Ethel could have her typewriter in the subterranean breakfast-room.  Mrs. Chaffery and Ethel must do the catering and the bulk of the housework, and as soon as possible, since letting lodgings would not square with Lewisham’s professional pride, they must get rid of the lease that bound them and take some smaller and more suburban residence.  If they did that without leaving any address it might save their feelings from any return of the prodigal Chaffery.

Mrs. Chaffery’s frequent and pathetic acknowledgments of Lewisham’s goodness only partly relieved his disposition to a philosophical bitterness.  And the practical issues were complicated by excursions upon the subject of Chaffery, what he might have done, and where he might have gone, and whether by any chance he might not return.

When at last Mrs. Chaffery, after a violent and tearful kissing and blessing of them both—­they were “good dear children,” she said—­had departed, Mr. and Mrs. Lewisham returned into their sitting-room.  Mrs. Lewisham’s little face was enthusiastic.  “You’re a Trump,” she said, extending the willing arms that were his reward.  “I know,” she said, “I know, and all to-night I have been loving you.  Dear!  Dear!  Dear....”

The next day Lewisham was too full of engagements to communicate with Lagune, but the following morning he called and found the psychic investigator busy with the proofs of Hesperus.  He welcomed the young man cordially nevertheless, conceiving him charged with the questions that had been promised long ago—­it was evident he knew nothing of Lewisham’s marriage.  Lewisham stated his case with some bluntness.

“He was last here on Saturday,” said Lagune.  “You have always been inclined to suspicion about him.  Have you any grounds?”

“You’d better read this,” said Lewisham, repressing a grim smile, and he handed Lagune Chaffery’s letter.

He glanced at the little man ever and again to see if he had come to the personal portion, and for the rest of the time occupied himself with an envious inventory of the writing appointments about him.  No doubt the boy with the big ears had had the same sort of thing ...

When Lagune came to the question of his real identity he blew out his cheeks in the most astonishing way, but made no other sign.