"Is what you want to put before me something awful I've done ?" "Excuse me if I press this point." Mr.Longdon spoke kindly, but if his friend's anxiety grew his own thereby diminished.

"Can you think of nothing at all ?" "Do you mean that I've done ?" "No, but that--whether you've done it or not--I may have become aware of." There could have been no better proof than Vanderbank's expression, on this, of his having mastered the secret of humouring without appearing to patronise.

"I think you ought to give me a little more of a clue." Mr.Longdon took off his glasses.

"Well--the clue's Nanda Brookenham." "Oh I see." His friend had responded quickly, but for a minute said nothing more, and the great marble clock that gave the place the air of a club ticked louder in the stillness.

Mr.Longdon waited with a benevolent want of mercy, yet with a look in his face that spoke of what depended for him--though indeed very far within--on the upshot of his patience.