III + 

If that lunch was a success it was due to Anthony Gethryn. Until he came to the rescue there was an alternation of small-talk and silence so uncomfortable as to destroy the savour of good food and better wine. Sir Arthur was sinking deep into the toils of sorrow⁠—one could see it⁠—Miss Masterson was anxious about her sister and her absent lover, and the hostess was plainly discomposed. + 

So Anthony took command. The situation suited him well enough. He talked without stint. Against their desire he interested them. It must be believed that he had what is known as “a way with him.” Soon he extorted questions, questions which he turned to discussion. From discussion to smiles was an easy step. Sir Arthur’s face lost some of its gloom. Dora frankly beamed. + 

Only the woman at the head of the table remained aloof. Anthony took covert glances at her. He could not help it. Her pallor made him uncomfortable. He blamed himself. He saw that she was keeping herself under an iron control, and fell to wondering, as he talked to the others, how much more beautiful she would be were this fear or anxiety lifted from her shoulders. + 

But was she beautiful? He stole another look, purely analytical. No, she was not: not, at least, if beauty were merely perfection of feature. The eyes were too far apart. The mouth was too big. No, she was better than beautiful. She was herself, and therefore⁠— + 

Anthony reproved himself for the recurrence of these adolescent emotions. His thoughts took a grimmer turn. He thought of that spongelike mess that had been a man’s head. It was time he got to work. + 

He slid into another story. The silence which fell was flattering. It was a good story. Whether it was true is no matter. + 

It was a tale of Constantinople, which Anthony knew as his listeners knew London. He had, it seemed, been there, almost penniless, in nineteen hundred and twelve. It was a tale of A Prosperous Merchant, A Secret Service Man, A Flower of the Harem, and A Globetrotter. Its ramifications were amusing, thrilling, pathetic, and it was at all times enthralling. Its conclusion was sad, for the Flower of the Harem was drowned. She could not swim the distance she had set herself. And the Secret Service Man went back to his Secret Service Duties. + 

Sir Arthur cleared his throat. Dora Masterson’s eyes held tears. At the head of the table her sister sat rigid, her white hands gripping the arms of her chair. Anthony noted her attitude with quickened pulse: she had shown no interest until the end of the story. + 

“Of course,” he said, “she was a little fool to try it. Think of the distance. And the tide was strong. It’d be impossible even for an athletic Englishwoman.” He is to be congratulated upon making so ridiculous a statement in so natural a tone. + 

“Oh! Mr. Gethryn, surely not,” cried Dora excitedly. “Why Loo⁠—” + 

A spurt of flame and a crash of breaking china interrupted her sentence. Mrs. Lemesurier had overturned spirit-lamp and coffeepot. Much damage had resulted to cups and saucers. The tablecloth was burning. + 

“Not bad at all,” thought Anthony, as he rose to help. “But you won’t get off quite so easily.” + 

Order was restored; fresh coffee made and drunk. The party moved to the drawing-room and thence to garden. + 

Anthony lingered in the pleasant room before joining the others on the lawn. + 

At last he took a seat beside his hostess. The deck-chairs were in the shade of one of the three great cedars. + 

“A delightful room, your drawing-room, if I may say so.” His tone was harmlessly affable. + 

The reply was icy. “I am glad it pleases you, Mr.⁠—Mr. Gethryn.” + 

Anthony beamed. “Yes, charming, charming. It has an air, a grace only too rare nowadays. I admired that sideboard thing immensely; Chippendale, I think. And how the silver of those cups shows up the polish of the wood!” + 

With this speech he did not get the effect for which he had wished. Beyond a pulse in the white throat that leapt into startled throbbing, there was no sign of alarm. She remained silent. + 

Half his mind applauded her and reviled himself. + 

But the other half, ruthless, urged him on. “Have another try; you must,” it whispered. “Get to the bottom of this business. Don’t behave like a schoolboy!” + 

“I’m afraid I was so interested that I had to examine those cups and their inscriptions,” he murmured. “Very rude of me. But to have won all those! You must be a wonderful swimmer, Mrs. Lemesurier.” + 

The little pulse in her throat beat heavily. “I have given it up⁠—long ago,” she said simply. Her eyes⁠—those eyes⁠—looked at him steadily. + 

Anthony spurred himself. “Of course,” he said, smiling, “there’s no opportunity for pleasure swimming about here, is there? Except the Marle. And one would hardly tackle that for pleasure, what? The motive would have to be sterner than that.” + 

The blood surged to the pale face, and then as suddenly left it. Anthony was seized with remorse. His mind hunted wildly for words to ease the strain, but he could find none. The sandal in his pocket seemed to be scorching his flesh. + 

She rose slowly to her feet, crossed to where her sister sat with Sir Arthur some yards away, said something in a low voice, and walked slowly across the grass towards the house. Though Anthony could see that she only attained movement by a great effort of will, the grace of her carriage gave him a swift sensation⁠—half pleasure, half pain⁠—which was like a clutch at his throat. The clinging yellow gown she wore seemed a golden mist about her. + 

He turned to join the other two, deep in conversation. A little cry came to their ears. They swung round to see a limp body sink huddled to the gravel of the path before the windows of the drawing-room. + 

Anthony reached her side before the girl or the elder man had moved. As they came up, + 

“Dead faint,” he said. “Nothing to be frightened about, Miss Masterson. Shall I carry her in?” He waved a hand towards the open French-windows. + 

“Oh, please do.” Dora picked nervously at her dress. “It⁠—it is only a faint, isn’t it?” + 

She was reassured. Anthony gathered the still body in his arms and bore it into the room. + 

He withdrew to the background while Sir Arthur and the girl ministered. Had he wished he could not have helped them. He had held Her in his arms. His heart hammered at his ribs. He felt⁠—though he would not have acknowledged it⁠—actually giddy. Only by an effort did he manage to mask his face with its usual impassivity. His one desire for the moment was to get away and think; to leave this house before he did more harm. Reason; thought; his sense of justice⁠—all deserted him. + 

Sir Arthur stepped back from the couch. Colour had come back to the cheeks of the woman. The lids of the eyes had flickered. Sir Arthur turned. + 

Anthony touched him on the arm. “I think we’re superfluous, you know,” he said. + 

The other nodded. “You’re right. I’ve told Dora I’d send a doctor, but she doesn’t seem to think it’s necessary. Come on.” + 

They slipped from the room, and in two minutes were walking back along the riverbank towards the bridge. + 