‘Had a letter?’ he asked.

‘Yes—­no.  Nothing of any importance.’

He smiled and applied himself to the ham, then left her in his ordinary way, without a word of courtesy, and went to town.  She had asked him particularly when he should be back that night He named the train, which reached Wimbledon a little after ten.

They had only one servant.  Alice took the girl into her confidence, said she was going to play a trick, and it must not be spoilt.  By ten o’clock at night she was dressed for going out, and when she heard her husband’s latch-key at the front door she slipped out at the back.  It was her plan to walk about the roads for half an hour, then to enter and—­make the best of the situation.

Rodman, unable to find his wife, summoned the servant.

‘Where is your mistress?’

‘Out, sir.’

He examined the girl shrewdly, with his eyes and with words.  It was perfectly true that women—­of a kind—­could not resist him.  In the end he discovered exactly what had happened.  He laughed his wonted laugh of cynical merriment.

‘Go to bed,’ he said to the servant.  ’And if you hear anyone at the door, pay no attention.’

Then he locked up the house, front and back, and, having extinguished all lights except a small lantern by which he could read in the sitting-room without danger of its being discerned from outside, sat down with a sense of amusement.  Presently there came a ring at the bell; it was repeated again and again.  The month was October, the night decidedly cool.  Rodman chuckled to himself; he had a steaming glass of whisky before him and sipped it delicately.  The ringing continued for a quarter of an hour, then five minutes passed, and no sound came.  Rodman stepped lightly to the front door, listened, heard nothing, unlocked and opened.  Alice was standing m the middle of the road, her hands crossed over her breast and holding her shoulders as though she suffered from the cold.  She came forward and entered the house without speaking.

In the sitting-room she found the lantern and looked at her husband in surprise.  His face was stern.

‘What’s all this?’ he asked sharply.

‘I’ve been to London,’ she answered, her teeth chattering with cold and her voice uncertain from fear.

’Been to London?  And what business had you to go without telling me?’

He spoke savagely.  Alice was sinking with dread, but even yet had sufficient resolve to keep up the comedy.

’I had an invitation.  I don’t see why I shouldn’t go.  I don’t ask you who you go about with.’

The table was laid for supper.  Rodman darted to it, seized a carving-knife, and in an instant was holding it to her throat.  She shrieked and fell upon her knees, her face ghastly with mortal terror.  Then Rodman burst out laughing and showed that his anger had been feigned.

She had barely strength to rise, but at length stood before him trembling and sobbing, unable to believe that he had not been in earnest.