Diana flushed hotly at Jerry’s tacit acceptance of the fact that Adrienne’s affairs were naturally of so much moment to her husband.  It was another pin-prick in the wound that had been festering for so long.  She ignored it, however, and answered quietly:—­

“Yes, I see.  Perhaps you had better leave it for a few days.  What about Pobs?  He’ll have to be consulted in the matter, won’t he?”

“I told him, long ago, that I wanted Joan.  Before”—­with a grin—­“I ever summoned up pluck to tell Joan herself!  He was a brick about it, but he thought I ought to make it up with the governor before Joan and I were formally engaged.  So I did—­and I’m jolly glad of it.  And now I want to go down to Crailing, and fetch Joan, and take her with me to Abbotsleigh.  So I should want at least a week off.”

“Well, wait till Max comes back,” advised Diana, “We shall know more about the matter then.  And—­and—­Jerry!” She stretched out her hand, which immediately disappeared within Jerry’s big, boyish fist.  “Good luck, old boy!”

* * * * * *

Max returned at about ten o’clock, and Diana proceeded to offer polite inquiries about Miss de Gervais’ welfare.  She wondered if he would remember how near they had been to each other just for an instant before the news of the attempt upon Adrienne’s life had reached them.

But apparently he had forgotten all about it.  His thoughts were entirely concerned with Adrienne, and he was unusually grave and preoccupied.

He ordered a servant to bring him some sandwiches and a glass of wine, and when he and Diana were once more alone, be announced abruptly:—­

“I shall have to leave home for a few days.”

“Leave home?” echoed Diana.

“Yes.  Adrienne must go out of town, and I’m going to run down to some little country place and find rooms for her and Mrs. Adams.”

“Find rooms?” Diana stared at him amazedly.  “But surely—­won’t they go to Red Gables?”

Max shook his head.

“No.  It wouldn’t be safe after this—­this affair.  The same brute might try to get her again.  You see, it’s quite well known that she has a house at Crailing.”

“Who is it that is such an enemy of hers?”

Max hesitated a moment.

“It might very well be some former actor, some poor devil of a fellow down on his luck, who has brooded over his fancied wrongs till he was half-mad,” he said, at length.

Diana’s eyes flashed.  So that item of news intended for the morning papers was also to be handed out for home consumption!

“What steps are you taking to trace the man?”

Again Max paused before replying.  To Diana, his hesitation strengthened her conviction that he was, as usual, withholding something from her.

“Well?” she repeated.  “What steps are you taking?”

“None,” he answered at last reluctantly.  “Adrienne doesn’t wish any fuss made over the matter.”