Never in after-life could he obliterate the remembrance of that descent.  Fear, such as he could never experience in his own concerns, possessed him.  One desire overrode all others —­the desire that Eve’s reputation, which he himself had so nearly imperilled, should remain unimperilled.  In the shadow of that urgent duty, the despair of the past hours, the appalling fact so lately realized, the future with its possible trials, became dark to his imagination.  In his new victory over self, the question of her protection predominated.

Moving under this compulsion, he guided her hastily and silently down the deserted stairs, drawing a breath of deep relief as, one after another, the landings were successively passed; and still actuated by the suppressed need of haste, he passed through the door-way that they had entered under such different conditions only a few minutes before.

To leave the quiet court, to gain the Strand, to hail a belated hansom was the work of a moment.  By an odd contrivance of circumstance, the luck that had attended every phase of his dual life was again exerted in his behalf.  No one had noticed their entry into Clifford’s Inn; no one was moved to curiosity by their exit.  With an involuntary thrill of feeling he gave expression to his relief.

“Thank God, it’s over!” he said, as a cab drew up.  “You don’t know what the strain has been.”

Moving as if in a dream, Eve stepped into the cab.  As yet the terrible denouement to their enterprise had made no clear impression upon her mind.  For the moment all that she was conscious of, all that she instinctively acknowledged, was the fact that Loder was still beside her.

In quiet obedience she took her place, drawing aside her skirts to make room for him; and in the same subdued manner, he stepped into the vehicle.  Then, with the strange sensation of reliving their earlier drive, they were aware of the tightened rein and of the horse’s first forward movement.

For several seconds neither spoke.  Eve, shutting out all other thoughts, sat close to Loder, clinging tenaciously to the momentary comforting sense of protection; Loder, striving to marshal his ideas, hesitated before the ordeal of speech.  At last, realizing his responsibility, he turned to her slowly.

“Eve,” he said, in a low voice and with some hesitation, “I want you to know that in all this—­from the moment I saw him —­from the moment I understood—­I have had you in my thoughts —­you and no one else.”

She raised her eyes to his face.

“Do you realize—?” he began afresh.  “Do you know what this —­this thing means?”

Still she remained silent.