man like Belward be so infatuated? He rose, Gaston thanked him for the
meeting, and was about to go, when the Prime Minister, tapping his
shoulder kindly, said:

"Mr. Belward, you are not playing to the rules of the game." He waved
his hand towards the Chamber of the House. "It is the greatest game in
the world. She must go! Do not reply. You will come back without her
--good-bye!"

Then came Ridley Court. He entered on Sir William and Lady Belward
without announcement. Sir William came to his feet, austere and pale.
Lady Belward's fingers trembled on the lace she held. They looked many
years older. Neither spoke his name, nor did they offer their hands.
Gaston did not wince, he had expected it. He owed these old people
something. They lived according to their lights, they had acted
righteously as by their code, they had used him well--well always.

"Will you hear the whole story?" he said. He felt that it would be best
to tell them all. "Can it do any good?" asked Sir William. He looked
towards his wife.

"Perhaps it is better to hear it," she murmured. She was clinging to a
vague hope.

Gaston told the story plainly, briefly, as he had told his earlier
history. Its concision and simplicity were poignant. From the day he
first saw Andree in the justice's room till the hour when she opened Ian
Belward's letter, his tale went. Then he paused.

"I remember very well," Sir William said, with painful meditation: "a