“It is an awful story, Carr; bad and wicked.”

“Let me hear it at once,” replied Thomas Carr.

“I am in danger of—­of—­in short, that person upstairs could have me apprehended to-night.  I would not tell you but that I must do so.  I must have advice, assistance; but you’ll start from me when you hear it.”

“I will stand by you, whatever it may be.  If a man has ever need of a friend, it must be in his extremity.”

Lord Hartledon stood, and whispered a strange tale.  It was anything but coherent to the clear-minded barrister; nevertheless, as he gathered one or two of its points he did start back, as Hartledon had foretold, and an exclamation of dismay burst from his lips.

“And you could marry—­with this hanging over your head!”

“Carr—­”

The butler came in with an interruption.

“My lady wishes to know whether your lordship is going out with her to-night.”

“Not to-night,” answered Lord Hartledon, pointing to the door for the man to make his exit.  “It is of her I think, not of myself,” he murmured to Mr. Carr.

“And he”—­the barrister pointed above to indicate the stranger—­“threatens to have you apprehended on the charge?”

“I hardly know what he threatens. You must deal with him, Carr; I cannot.  Let us go; we are wasting time.”

As they left the room to go upstairs Lady Hartledon came out of the dining-room and crossed their path.  She was deeply mortified at her husband’s bringing Mr. Carr to the house after what she had said; and most probably came out at the moment to confront them with her haughty and disapproving face.  However that might have been, all other emotions gave place to surprise, when she saw their faces, each bearing a livid look of fear.

“I hope you are well, Lady Hartledon,” said Mr. Carr.

She would not see the offered hand, but swept onwards with a cold curtsey, stopping just a moment to speak to her husband.

“You are not going out with me, Lord Hartledon?”

“I cannot to-night, Maude.  Business detains me.”

She passed up the stairs, vouchsafing no other word.  They lingered a minute to let her get into the drawing-room.

“Poor Maude!  What will become of her if this is brought home to me?”

“And if it is not brought home to you—­the fact remains the same,” said Mr. Carr, in his merciless truth.

“And our children, our children!” groaned Hartledon, a hot flush of dread arising in his white face.

They shut themselves in with the stranger, and the conference was renewed.  Presently lights were rung for; Hedges brought them himself, but gained nothing by the movement; for Mr. Carr heard him coming, rose unbidden, and took them from him at the door.

Lady Hartledon’s curiosity was excited.  It had been aroused a little by the stranger himself; secondly by their scared faces; thirdly by this close conference.