I + 

His meal over, he left the flat, going first to a District Messengers’ office and then back to the garage for his car. + 

He knew the road to Marling so well by this time that he could almost have driven blindfold, and he has said that on this morning he once or twice found himself to have been sleeping at the wheel. It is certain, anyhow, that he barely saw where he was going. Such thought as his tired brain could compass was not of murders and murderers, but of Love, a Lover and a Lady. + 

It was, if one is to believe him, at the crossroads beyond Beachmere that he made up his mind to see Her, to drive straight to the house on the bank of the Marle. + 

He looked at his watch. The hands pointed to ten. He settled down in his seat. The needle on the speedometer jerked to twenty, to twenty-five; then gradually crept on till it hesitated between forty-five and fifty. + 

His spirits mounted with the speed. The car tore her way into Marling and down the cobbled slope of the High Street, swung to the left, took the little bridge at a bound, raced on, turned the corner next on the left after the river bank on two wheels, ploughed up the little lane, and pulled up at the gates of the house which was graced with Her presence. + 

Or should have been. For the parlourmaid informed him that her mistress and her mistress’s sister were out. For the day, she thought. She was not sure, but she imagined the ladies to have gone to London. + 

Anthony, his fatigue heavy upon him, walked slowly back to his car. For a moment he sat idle in the driving-seat; then suddenly quickened into life. Though their ultimate destination might indeed be London, the women would surely stop on their way through Greyne. For in Greyne’s jail was Deacon. + 

So to Greyne he drove at speed. He missed them by five minutes. + 

Had Anthony Gethryn been a man of common sense he would have returned at once to his Marling inn, fallen upon his bed, and let Sleep have her way with him. But he was not, so he stayed with Deacon. Deacon was obviously⁠—in spite of his flippancy⁠—delighted at this visit. Anthony stayed with him until two o’clock, when the great Sir Edward Marshall, K.C., arrived in person for consultation with his latest case, and then set out for Marling. This he did not reach for two hours, fatigue and preoccupation having cost him no fewer than three wrong turnings. + 

At the inn was waiting the reply to the letter he had sent by District Messenger that morning. It had come, this reply, in the form of a seemingly ordinary message over the inn’s telephone. It was what he had expected, but nevertheless it made it necessary for him to think. + 

And think he did, sitting on the hot grass bank at the edge of the little bowling-green behind the inn, for as long as it takes to smoke one cigar and two pipes. Then he sought the bar, to slake a savage thirst. + 

He ordered a meal to be served at seven. To pass the hour that must elapse before this and to throw off the lassitude brought on by his fatigue and the oppression of the day’s heavy, airless heat, he sought the bathroom and much cold water. + 

After the bath he felt better. He returned to his quarters whistling. Crossing his sitting-room to get to the bedroom which opened out of it, he saw something he had not noticed when going bath-wards. The whistling ceased abruptly. On the table in the centre of the room lay an envelope. His name was on it, in hurried, pencilled scrawl. The writing was feminine. + 

He ripped it open, read, and jumped for the door. The pink-cheeked chambermaid came running. She would not have believed this quiet gentleman could shout so loud, nor so angrily. + 

Anthony, his lank black hair dishevelled, his long, lean body swathed in a bath-gown, towered wrathfully above her. + 

“When did this note arrive?” He waved the envelope in her face. + 

The girl fingered her apron. “Oh, sir! It came this morning, please, sir. Lady left it, sir. Just after ten, it was. Mrs. Lermeesherer, sir.” + 

“I know, I know!” Anthony snorted. “But why in Satan’s name wasn’t I told about it when I got back this evening?” He went back into his room, slamming the door and feeling not a little ashamed of himself. + 

The little chambermaid clattered downstairs to discuss with her colleagues the strange effect of a note upon a gentleman before so pleasant. + 

Anthony clad himself with speed; then ran downstairs to the telephone. The answer to his first call was disappointing. No, Mrs. Lemesurier was not back; would not be, probably, until eight. + 

He rang off, swore, bethought him of his work, made sure that the door of the telephone cabinet was closed, lifted the receiver and asked for another number. + 

It was ten minutes before he left the cabinet and went slowly to his dinner. He ate little, fatigue, preoccupation, and the stifling heat of the evening combining to deprive him of appetite. Over coffee he reread his letter. It is a tribute to his self-restraint that he had delayed so long. It was a short letter, running thus:⁠— + 

“Dear Mr. Gethryn,⁠—I am sorry you were out: I wanted to apologise for my unpardonable behavior. I can’t think what made me so foolish; and quite see now that you had to talk to Jim and also that he was none the worse for the interview⁠—in fact I hear from Mr. Hastings, who rang up early this morning, that he is ever so much better! + 

“If you are not too busy and would care to, do come and see us this evening. I would ask you to dinner, but we shall probably be late and have a very scrappy meal. + 

There is a peculiar and subtle and quite indefinable pleasure that comes to a man when the woman he loves first writes to him. Soever curt, soever banal the letter, there is no matter. It is something from Her to him; something altogether private and secret; something She has set down for him to read; something not to be shared with a sordid world. + 

Anthony lost himself in this sea of subtle delight, varying joy with outbursts against himself for having exhibited such boorishness and for being so insanely, so youthfully in love. “For, after all,” he told himself, “I haven’t known her for a week yet. I’ve spoken with her not a dozen times. I am clearly a fool!” + 

Unpleasant thoughts broke in upon him. He looked at his watch; then jumped to his feet and made his way upstairs to his rooms. He reached them mopping his forehead. He could not remember a day in England so oppressive. + 

He took his hat and turned to leave the room. As he did so a rush of wind swept in through the open window, and a long, low angry mutter of thunder came to his ears. Then, with a rush, came the rain; great sheets of it, glistening in the half-dusk. + 

Anthony put on a mackintosh, substituted a cap for the hat, and left the inn. He did not take his car. Even as he turned out of the yard into the cobbled street, the thunder changed from rumble to sharp, staccato reports, and three jagged swords of lightning tore the black of the sky. + 

Anthony strode on, hands thrust deep into pockets, chin burrowed into the upturned collar of the trench-coat. Incredibly almost, the volume of rain increased and increased. + 