She nodded.

“I shall do nothing—­nothing.”

“That’s best, I assure you.  You’re not angry with me?  You’ll shake hands?”

She gave him her hand; withdrew it quickly; turned to hide her face again.  And Gammon hastened Citywards.

A telegram came from him in little more than an hour.  It reported that the patient was still unconscious and dangerously ill.

When, later in the afternoon, Gammon went to the hospital to make another inquiry he learnt that Lord Polperro was dead.

Turning away, debating whether to send the widow a. telegram or to break the news by word of mouth, he saw a cab drive up, out of which jumped Mr. Greenacre.  Their eyes met, but they exchanged no sign of recognition.  Scarcely, however, had Gammon walked a dozen yards when a quick step sounded behind him, and he was addressed in tones of the most conciliatory politeness.

“Gammon, may I beg one word?  I owe you an apology.  My behaviour last night was quite unjustifiable.  I can only explain it by the fact that I had undergone a severe trial to the nerves.  I was not myself.  May I hope, my dear Gammon, to be forgiven?  I apologize most humbly—­believe me.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” replied the other with a grin; “I hope I didn’t hurt you?”

“My dear fellow, it would have served me right.  But no—­just a few trifling bruises.  By the by, our friend has departed.”

“Dead—­yes!”

“Do you know, Gammon, I think we ought to have a quiet talk.  You and I have common interests in this matter.  There will be an inquest, you know, and the fact is I think”—­he spoke very confidentially—­“it might be as well for us both if we came to some sort of mutual understanding.  As things have turned out we are victims of circumstances.  Might I suggest with all deference that we should dine together very quietly?  I know a very suitable place.  It’s early for dinner, but, to tell the truth, I have had no particular appetite, to-day; in fact, have hardly touched food.”

Gammon accepted this invitation and decided to send a telegram to the china shop.

Their conference—­tentative on both sides for the first half hour—­led eventually to a frank disclosure of all that was in their minds with regard to Lord Polperro.  Each possessed of knowledge that made him formidable to the other, should their attitude be one of mutual hostility, they agreed, in Greenacre’s phrase, to “pool” all information and then see how they stood.  Herein Gammon had the advantage; he learnt much more than it was in his power to communicate, for, whilst Greenacre had been playing a deliberate game, the man of commerce had become possessed of secrets only by chance, which his friend naturally could not believe.

Greenacre had been to Ireland on the track of a woman whom Lord Polperro had lost sight of for some five-and-twenty years; he had obtained satisfactory evidence that this woman was dead—­a matter of some moment, seeing that, if still alive, she would have been his lordship’s wife.  The date of her death was seven years and a few months ago.