“To Paris! But why? What do you hope to discover there?” “I do not know,” he answered, “but I am going to see David Courtlaw. My wife—killed me. It was his mother, and as he gazed on her pallid features and motionless frame, Jack's heart severely smote him. She will sail, at early dawn to-morrow, for Rotterdam. We wore invisible chains and invisible blinkers. Both of them. He was not due from the City until about six, and so she went and played Badminton with the Widgett girls until dinner-time. ‘Oh, mon dieu. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently.
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