“Mr. Smilash, whatever arrangement you may have made with your wife, it has nothing to do with me.  You have behaved infamously, and I desire to have as little as possible to say to you in future!  I desire to have nothing to say to you—­nothing,” said Mr. Jansenius.  “I look on your conduct as an insult to me, personally.  You may live in any fashion you please, and where you please.  All England is open to you except one place—­my house.  Come, Ruth.”  He offered his arm to his wife; she took it, and they turned away, looking about for Agatha, who, disgusted at the gaping curiosity of the rest, had pointedly withdrawn beyond earshot of the conversation.

Miss Wilson looked from Smilash—­who had watched Mr. Jansenius’s explosion of wrath with friendly interest, as if it concerned him as a curious spectator only—­to her two visitors as they retreated.  “Pray, do you consider this man’s statement satisfactory?” she said to them.  “I do not.”

“I am far too common a man to be able to make any statement that could satisfy a mind cultivated as yours has been,” said Smilash, “but I would ’umbly pint out to you that there is a boy yonder with a telegram trying to shove hisself through the ’iborn throng.”

“Miss Wilson!” cried the boy shrilly.

She took the telegram; read it; and frowned.  “We have had all our trouble for nothing, ladies and gentlemen,” she said, with suppressed vexation.  “Mrs. Trefusis says here that she has gone back to London.  She has not considered it necessary to add any explanation.”

There was a general murmur of disappointment.

“Don’t lose heart, ladies,” said Smilash.  “She may be drowned or murdered for all we know.  Anyone may send a telegram in a false name.  Perhaps it’s a plant.  Let’s hope for your sakes that some little accident—­on the railway, for instance—­may happen yet.”

Miss Wilson turned upon him, glad to find someone with whom she might justly be angry.  “You had better go about your business,” she said.  “And don’t let me see you here again.”

“This is ’ard,” said Smilash plaintively.  “My intentions was nothing but good.  But I know wot it is.  It’s that young varmint a-saying that the young lady kissed me.”

“Inspector,” said Miss Wilson, “will you oblige me by seeing that he leaves the college as soon as possible?”

“Where’s my wages?” he retorted reproachfully.  “Where’s my lawful wages?  I am su’prised at a lady like you, chock full o’ moral science and political economy, wanting to put a poor man off.  Where’s your wages fund?  Where’s your remuneratory capital?”

“Don’t you give him anything, ma’am,” said the inspector.  “The money he’s had from the lady will pay him very well.  Move on here, or we’ll precious soon hurry you.”

“Very well,” grumbled Smilash.  “I bargained for ninepence, and what with the roller, and opening the soda water, and shoving them heavy tables about, there was a decomposition of tissue in me to the tune of two shillings.  But all I ask is the ninepence, and let the lady keep the one and threppence as the reward of abstinence.  Exploitation of labor at the rate of a hundred and twenty-five per cent., that is.  Come, give us ninepence, and I’ll go straight off.”