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“You don’t believe me?” Carey asked.

Somehow, though he had been prepared for bluster and even violence, he had not expected incredulity.

Coningsby filled and emptied his glass a second time before he answered.

“No,” he said then, with sudden savagery: “I don’t believe you! You had better get out of my house at once, or–I warn you–I may break every bone in your blackguardly body yet!” He turned on Carey, leaping madness in his eyes.

But Carey stood like a rock. “You know the truth,” he said quietly.

Coningsby broke into another wild laugh, and pointed up at the picture above his head.

“I shall know it,” he declared, “when the sea gives up its dead. Till that day I am free to console myself in my own way, and no one shall stop me.”

“You are not free,” Carey said. Very steadily he faced the man, very distinctly he spoke. “And, however you console yourself, it will not be with my cousin Lady Emberdale.”

Coningsby turned back to the table to fill his glass again. He spilt the spirit over the cloth as he did it.

“Man alive,” he gibed, “do you think she will believe you if I don’t?”

It was the weak point of his position, and Carey realised it. It was more than probable that Lady Emberdale would take Coningsby’s view of the matter. If the man really attracted her it was almost a foregone conclusion. He knew Gwen’s mother well–her inconsequent whims, her obstinacy.

Yet, even in face of this check, he stood his ground.

“I may find some means of proving what I have told you,” he said, with unswerving resolution.

Coningsby drained his glass for the third time, and, with a menacing sweep of the hand, seized his riding-whip.

“I don’t advise you to come here with your proofs,” he snarled. “The only proof I would look at is the woman herself. Now, sir, I have warned you fairly. Are you going?”

His attitude was openly threatening, but Carey’s eyes were piercingly upon him, and, in spite of himself, he paused. So for the passage of seconds they stood; then slowly Carey turned away.

“I am going,” he said, “to find your wife.”

He did not glance again at the picture as he passed from the room. He could not bring himself to meet the dark eyes that followed him.

V

Yes; he would find her. But how? There was only one course open to him, and he shrank from that with disgust unutterable. It was useless to think of advertising. He was convinced that she would never answer an advertisement.

The only way to find her was to employ a detective to track her down. He clenched his hands in impotent revolt. Not only had it been laid upon him to betray her confidence, but he must follow this up by dragging her from her hiding-place, and returning her to the bitter bondage from which he had once helped her to escape.

That she still lived he was inwardly convinced. He would have given all he had to have known her dead.

But, for that day, at least, there was no more to be done, and Gwen must not have her birthday spoilt by the knowledge of his failure. He decided to keep out of her way till the evening.

When he entered the ball-room at the appointed time she pounced upon him eagerly, but her young guests were nearly all assembled, and it was no moment for private conversation.

“Oh, Reggie! There you are! How dreadful you look in a mask! This is my cousin, mademoiselle,” turning to a lady in black who accompanied her. “I’ve been wanting to introduce him to you. Don’t forget that the masks are not to come off till midnight. We’re going to boom the big gong when the clock strikes twelve.”

She flitted away in her shimmering fairy’s dress, closely attended by Charlie Rivers, to persuade his father to give her a dance. The room was crowded with masked guests, Lady Emberdale, handsome and brilliant, and Admiral Rivers, her bluff but faithful admirer, being the only exceptions to the rule of the evening.