After a formidable silence Julian said savagely—­

“Look here.  I’ve got something to tell you.  I’ve written it all down, and I thought to send it ye by post.  But after I’d written it I said to myself I’d tell it ye face to face or I’d die for it.  And so here I am.”

“Oh!” Louis murmured.  He would have liked to be genially facetious, but his mouth was dried up.  He could not ask any questions.  He waited.

“Where’s missis?” Julian demanded.

Louis started, not instantly comprehending.

“Rachel?  She’s—­she’s in bed.  She’d gone to bed before you sent round.”

“Well, I’ll thank ye to get her up, then!” Julian pronounced.  “She’s got to hear this at first hand, not at second.”  His gaze expressed a frank distrust of Louis.

“But—­”

At this moment Rachel came into the parlour, apparently fully dressed.  Her eyes were red, but her self-control was complete.

Julian glared at Louis as at a trapped liar.

“I thought ye said she was in bed.”

“She was,” said Louis.  He could find nothing to say to his wife.

Rachel nonchalantly held out her hand.

“So you’ve come,” she said.

“Aye!” said Julian gruffly, and served Rachel’s hand as he had served
Louis’.

She winced without concealment.

“Was it you we saw going down Moorthorne Road to-night?” she asked.

“It was,” said Julian, looking at the carpet.

“Well, why didn’t you come in then?”

“I couldn’t make up my mind, if you must know.”

“Aren’t you going to sit down?”

Julian sat down.

Louis reflected that women were astonishing and incalculable, and the discovery seemed to him original, even profound.  Imagine her tackling Julian in this fashion, with no preliminaries!  She might have seen Julian last only on the previous day!  The odalisque had vanished in this chill and matter-of-fact housewife.

“And why were you at the ’Three Tuns’?” she went on.

Julian replied with extraordinary bitterness—­

“I was at the ‘Three Tuns’ because I was at the ‘Three Tuns.’”

“I see you’ve grown a beard,” said Rachel.

“Happen I have,” said Julian.  “But what I say is, I’ve got something to tell you two.  I’ve written it all down and I thought to post it to ye.  But after I’d written it I says to myself, ’I’ll tell ’em face to face or I’ll die for it.’”

“Is it about that money?” Rachel inquired.

“Aye!”

“Then Mr. Batchgrew did write and tell you about it.  Won’t you take that great, thick overcoat off?”

Julian jumped up as if in fury, pulled off the overcoat with violent gestures, and threw in on the Chesterfield.  Then he sat down again, and, sticking out his chin, stared inimically at Louis.