So he had done right in encouraging her friendship with Ulick, sending Ulick to her, putting his natural jealousy aside—­preferring to suffer rather than that she should be lost.  God only knew how he was suffering day by day, hour by hour; but it were better that he should suffer than that she should be abandoned to the spiritual constriction of the old Roman python.  It was horrible to think, but the powerful coils would break and crush to pulp; then the beast would lubricate and swallow.  Anything were better than this; Ulick’s kisses would never be more to Evelyn than the passing trance of the senses; she never would love him as other women loved, giving their souls:  she had never given her soul, why should she give it now?  But, good God! if after some new adventure she should return to the python?

His heart failed him; but only for a moment.  Ulick might prove to her the futility of her endeavour to lead a chaste life; and once that was established she would become the beautiful, enchanting being that he had known; but she would never return to him.  If she only returned to herself!  The spirit of sacrifice tempted him, despite the suffering he was enduring—­a suffering which he compared to sudden scaldings:  he was being scalded to death by degrees, covered from head to foot with blisters.  A telegram in the hall for Ulick, a hesitation in Ulick’s voice, a sudden shifting of the eyes—­anything sufficed—­and therewith he was burnt to the bone, far beyond the bone, into the very vitals.  Even now in his study, he waited another scalding.  At any moment Ulick might come in, and though he never betrayed himself by any word or look, still his presence would suggest that he had just come from Evelyn.  Perhaps he had been walking with her in the park?  But why wait in Berkeley Square?  If a martyrdom of jealousy he must endure, let it be at Riversdale.  Out of sight would not mean out of mind; but he would not be constantly reminded of his torment; there would be business to attend to which would distract his mind, and when he returned in a few days to Berkeley Square merciful Fate would have settled everything:  she would be gone away with Ulick to be cured, or would remain behind, a living food for the serpent.

The valet was told that he must be ready to catch the half-past four train; and Ulick, when he returned from a long walk with Evelyn at half-past six, learnt that Sir Owen had gone to Riversdale.

“Sir Owen says, sir, he hopes to see you when he returns.”

But what business had taken Sir Owen out of London, and so suddenly?  The placid domestic could only tell him that Sir Owen often went to Riversdale on business connected with the estate.  “Sir Owen often gets a wire from his agent.”  But this sudden call to see his agent did not strike Ulick as very likely; far more likely that Asher had gone out of town because he suspected—­