Caldigate understood at once to whom the allusion was made, and was silent.

'Look here,' said the man, bringing a newspaper out of his pocket, and pointing to a special advertisement.

'Who do you think that is ?' The advertisement declared that Mademoiselle Cettini would, on such and such a night, sing a certain number of songs, and dance a certain number of dances, and perform a certain number of tableaux, at a certain theatre in Sydney.

'That's your Mrs.Smith,' said the man, turning to Caldigate.
'I am very glad she has got employment,' said Caldigate; 'but she is not my Mrs.Smith.' 'We all thought that you and she were very thick.' 'All the same I beg you to understand that she is not my Mrs.Smith,' repeated Caldigate, endeavouring to appear unconcerned, but hardly able to conceal his anger.
Dancing dances, singing songs, and acting tableaux;--and all under the name of Mademoiselle Cettini! Nothing could be worse,--unless, indeed, it might be of service to him to know that she was earning her bread, and therefore not in distress, and earning it after a fashion of which he would be at liberty to express his disapproval.

Nothing more was said at the time about Mrs.Smith, and the man went his way.
Ten days afterwards Caldigate, in the presence both of Mick and Dick, declared his purpose of going down to Sydney.