“I think it is quite time that you and he were separated,” Arnold declared.  “It is evident, nowadays, that he isn’t responsible for his actions.”

“Separated!” she repeated bitterly.  “You talk as though I had a choice of homes.”

“You have,” he assured her.  “However, we won’t say anything about that just now.  I want to talk about myself.”

“And I want to listen, dear!” she exclaimed.  “You must tell me what has happened, Arnie.  Has Mr. Weatherley taken you into partnership, or has some one of your disagreeable relatives found you out and been pouring money into your pockets?”

“Neither,” he replied.  “As a matter of fact, there is no Mr. Weatherley just at present.”

“No Mr. Weatherley?” she repeated, wonderingly.  “I don’t understand.”

The slightly worn look came back to Arnold’s face.  Young and strong though he was, he was beginning to feel the strain of the last few days.

“A most extraordinary thing has happened, Ruth,” he declared.  “Mr. Weatherley has disappeared.”

She looked at him blankly.

“Disappeared?  I don’t understand.”

“He simply didn’t turn up at business this morning,” Arnold continued.  “He left Bourne End about seven, and no one has set eyes on him since.”

She was bewildered.

“But how is it that that makes such a difference to you?” she asked.  “What can have happened to him?”

“No one knows,” he explained; “but in a little safe, of which he had given me the keys, he left behind some letters with instructions that during his absence from business Mr. Jarvis and I should jointly take charge.  I can’t really imagine why I should have been put in such a position, but there it is.  The solicitors have been down this afternoon, and I am drawing six pounds a week and a bonus.”

She took his hand in hers and patted it gently.

“I am so very glad, Arnold,” she said, “so very glad that the days of your loneliness are over.  Now you will be able to go and take some comfortable rooms somewhere and make the sort of friends you ought to have.  Didn’t I always foretell it?” she went on.  “I used to try and fancy sometimes that the ships we saw were bringing treasure for me, too, but I never really believed that.  It wasn’t quite likely.”

He turned and looked at her.  The first flush of excitement had left her cheeks.  She was very pale, and her soft gray eyes shone like stars.  Her mouth was tremulous.  It was the passing of a single impulse of self-pity.

“Foolish little girl!” he exclaimed, under his breath.  “You don’t really suppose that the treasure which came for me wasn’t yours, too?  But there, we’ll talk about our plans later on.  At present, what you have to do is to eat and to drink that glass of Burgundy and to listen to me.  I want to talk about myself.”

It was the subtlest way to distract her thoughts.  She listened to him with keen interest while he talked of his day’s work.  It was not until she mentioned Fenella’s name that his face clouded over.