admirable. And now you had better be going." The nurse peered into the hall.
"There is no one about just now. I will take Mrs. Thompkins to the front door. If we are seen, it will be supposed that she is some friend of mine who has been calling on me. I will watch till I see her safely in the car," the nurse assured him.
"Thanks."
"By the way, as I have to pretend not to know of my patient's departure, I had better not return till you have left."
"All right. Good-bye, nurse. I shall stay here a quarter of an hour so as to give you a good start. Good-bye, my dear." The next fifteen minutes seemed to Cyril the longest he had ever spent. He did not even dare to follow Priscilla's progress from the window. Watch in hand he waited till the time was up and then made his way cautiously out of the house without, as luck would have it, encountering any one. The taxi was no longer in sight! With a light heart Cyril walked briskly to the doctor's office.
"Well, Lord Wilmersley, what brings you here?" asked the doctor, when Cyril was finally ushered into the august presence.
"I have called to tell you that my wife has left the nursing home," Cyril blurted out.
"Impossible!" cried the doctor. "She was quite calm this morning. The nurse would----"
"The nurse had nothing to do with it," interrupted Cyril hastily. "It was I who took her away."
"You? But why this haste? I thought you had decided to wait till tomorrow."
"For family reasons, which I need not go into now, I thought it best that she should be removed at once."
"And may I know where she is?" inquired the doctor, looking searchingly at Cyril.
"I intend to take her to Geralton--in--in a few days."
"Indeed!" The doctor's upper lip lengthened perceptibly.
"So you do not wish me to know where you have hidden her."
"Hidden her?" Cyril raised his eyebrows deprecatingly. "That is a strange expression to use. It seems to me that a man has certainly the right to withhold his wife's address from a comparative stranger without being accused of hiding her. You should really choose your words more carefully, my dear sir."
The doctor glared at Cyril for a moment, then rising abruptly he paced the room several times.
"It's no use," he said at last, stopping in front of Cyril. "You can't persuade me that there is not some mystery connected with Lady Wilmersley. And I warn you that I have determined to find out the truth." Cyril's heart gave an uncomfortable jump, but he managed to keep his face impassive.
"A mystery? What an amusing idea! A man of your imagination is really wasted in the medical profession. You should write, my dear doctor, you really should. But, granting for the sake of argument that I have something to conceal, what right have you to try to force my confidence? My wife's movements are surely no concern 

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