“Oh yes, she’s better,” said Rachel, not moving from the sofa; “but have you heard what’s happened?”

In spite of himself he trembled, awaiting the disclosure.  “Now for the bank-notes!” he reflected, bracing his nerves.  He shook his head.

She told him what had happened; she told him at length, quickening her speech as she proceeded.  And for a few moments it was as if he was being engulfed by an enormous wave, and would drown.  But the next instant he recollected that he was on dry land, safe, high beyond the reach of any catastrophe.  His position was utterly secure.  The past was past; the leaf was turned.  He had but to forget, and he was confident of his ability to forget.  The compartments of his mind were innumerable, and as separate as the dungeons of a mediaeval prison.

“Isn’t it awful?” she murmured.

“Well, it is rather awful!”

“Nine hundred and sixty-five pounds!  Fancy it!”

The wave approached him again as she named the sum.  Nevertheless, he never once outwardly blenched.  As he had definitely put away unrighteousness, so his face showed no sign of guilt.  Like many ingenuous-minded persons, he had in a high degree the faculty of appearing innocent—­except when he really was innocent.

“If you ask me,” said Rachel, “she never took any of the notes upstairs at all; she left them all somewhere downstairs and only took the serviette upstairs.”

“Yes,” he agreed thoughtfully, wondering whether on the other hand, Mrs. Maldon had not taken all the notes upstairs, and left none of them downstairs.  Was it possible that in that small roll, in that crushed ball that he had dropped into the grate, there was nearly a thousand pounds—­the equivalent of an income of a pound a week for ever and ever?...  Never mind!  The incident, so far as he was concerned, was closed.  The dogma of his future life would be that the bank-notes had never existed.

“And I’ve looked ev’rywhere!” Rachel insisted with strong emphasis.

Louis remarked, thoughtfully, as though a new aspect of the affair was presenting itself to him—­

“It’s really rather serious, you know!”

“I should just say it was—­as much money as that!”

“I mean,” said Louis, “for everybody.  That is to say, Julian and me.  We’re involved.”

“How can you be involved?  You didn’t even know it was in the house.”

“No.  But the old lady might have dropped it.  I might have picked it up.  Julian might have picked it up.  Who’s to prove—­”

She cut in coldly—­

“Please don’t talk like that!”

He smiled with momentary constraint.  He said to himself—­

“It won’t do to talk to this kind of girl like that.  She won’t stand it....  Why, she wouldn’t even dream of suspicion falling on herself—­wouldn’t dream of it.”

After a silence he began—­

“Well—­” and made a gesture to imply that the enigma baffled him.