Hester was still sitting in the verandah waiting her husband's return. Her own preparations for the projected journey to the hills were well advanced, but there was still a good deal to settle before their departure, and she had expected Alfred to hurry home earlier than usual to complete all arrangements. Not realising how late it was, she reckoned that he must have been detained by some important interview with a client. As she sat with folded hands wearily waiting, her thoughts suddenly reverted to the disagreeable visitors of the afternoon and their extraordinary communication. It seemed to take shape in her mind for the first time and she sighed softly.

"I only wish Mr. Morpeth had been Alfred's father! How differently he would have brought him up from that silly aunt whose memory he despises!"

But the story was so evidently the outcome of malice that it was hardly worthy of consideration. Perhaps this Leila Baltus had been a former acquaintance of Alfred's. The thought had occurred to her before, and now she felt certain of it, and yet it seemed strange in the light of his bitter prejudice against the Eurasian community. But evidently the girl did owe him a grudge, and it was not pleasant to think of; so Hester tried to dismiss the incident from her mind.

She rose from her lounging chair and began to pace up and down the verandah, looking out on the moon-silvered lawn and drinking in the peace of the midnight landscape. A slight movement of one of the side blinds of the verandah which had not, like the others, been raised at sunset, now arrested her attention. She drew some steps nearer. Through one of the chinks of the rattan, which was being gently pushed up, she caught sight of a pair of eyes. For a moment she stood riveted to the spot with terror, then she turned with the intention of rousing the "maty," whom she knew to be stretched in deep slumber in the verandah at the back of the house, but a voice whispered through the chinks—"Hester."

The tone that fell on her ear was not familiar. Was it a ghostly presence that had crept near her? Those eyes had looked so terrible. They were withdrawn now, and she heard a light footfall on the steps which froze her blood within her. Suddenly her husband stood before her in his strange garb and with so wild and distraught a bearing that her terror was hardly lessened.

"Alfred," she gasped. "What is the matter? Why have you come like this?"

"Hush, Hester, don't speak so loud. Nobody must hear. Are you quite alone? Nobody about—all the servants gone?" whispered her husband, glancing round furtively.

"Alfred, what has—How awful you look—and that dress. What has happened?"

"Yes, I must look an awful guy! I'm sorry I've scared you! I might at least have taken off the turban before I showed myself—seeing I'm not a native, anyhow," he added, with a bitter laugh. Then springing forward he took hold of his wife's trembling hands and wailed in a piteous tone: "Oh, Hester, you won't desert me? Whatever happens, whatever you may hear about me. There will be many lies afloat. Hester, I'm in mortal trouble, everything has tumbled to bits——"

"Alfred, is it—is it that you've just found out—since you left this morning—that Mr. Morpeth is your father?" she asked, holding his hands and looking into his eyes.

"So you've heard that!" he gasped. "It's true what that fiend told me——"

"But why trouble about that?" said Hester gently. "I have just been thinking how good it would be if it were true! I know you have hated Eurasians, but—but if your father is one, surely that prejudice will snap like a gossamer thread. Think how noble he is—and Mark Cheveril too."

As she spoke that name, a picture, like a benediction, sprang into her troubled mind—those frank, honest eyes, that chivalrous protective presence—what would she not give to have Mark Cheveril with her at this difficult juncture to aid her in her persuasions, for she had not yet fathomed the abyss of trouble which seethed about her. "Why, Alfred, a parentage like that will be our pride," she went on, and her tone rang with conviction.

Her husband stared at her for an instant with a strange wistful expression in his eyes, then he shook his head and pulled his hand from her grasp.

"It's a lie," he shrieked. "A vile lie! I wouldn't touch the man with the tongs! He's not my father. You're on the wrong track altogether, Hester, it's not that. Listen and I'll whisper," he added, turning with terrified eyes to stare at the long shadows thrown by the moonlight from the shrubs encircling the gravel sweep. "I'm a hunted man. They're after me already—the police, I mean! I'm a criminal, Hester! In a mad moment I yielded to a vile temptation. The long and the short of it is that I've made myself liable to conviction for forgery. I'm ruined."

Then he narrated incoherently all that had led up to his using the Mahomedan's name.

Hester listened silently with strained eyes and a face of deadly pallor. Indeed she seemed unable to find utterance.

"Speak, Hester," wailed her husband, when he had told her all. "Don't stand staring at me like a ghost. I've come to say good-bye, Hester! I couldn't resist that. Mind, I did it for you—to get money to go to the hills, and now I'll have to flee an outcast and alone!"

"But how—where?" asked Hester in bewildered tones, as if she was only beginning to have a glimmering of the dreadful import of the revelation which she had just heard.

"Well, listen—I might dodge the police if I can get off to-night. I've got some hours in front of them still. I can't for the life of me steady my thoughts to make any plan. Hester, help me!" he wailed feebly. "I can't, I won't see the inside of an Indian jail!"

Hester's eyes dilated with horror, but she seemed unable to utter a word.

"Look here, wife, if I could only get hold of some disguise I might get off by the early train to Beypore, and go on to Karrachi and ship there. I've got a pal there who will help me, and see me through this scrape if I could only reach Beypore without being caught. Ah, but I shouldn't have told you—I should have kept that dark! Never mind now, you're my wife and you can keep a secret. Can't you plan out any make-up that would serve my turn—male or female?"

Hester's mind was already at work. She had so far grasped the desperate situation. Pain and shame gnawed at her spirit, and the unspoken wail rang in her heart, "Oh, how could he commit such a dreadful crime?" Even the query rose in her mind, "Was it right to help him?" If she did not, the issue was certain according to his own showing. When morning dawned he would be dragged off to prison. That slender body, those high strung nerves would not stand that even for a day! "O God, help me," she murmured, looking on the cowering figure of her husband. "The issues are with Thee, but surely it is for me, his wife, to help him at this terrible hour—all I can!"

"Oh, save me, Hester, save me!" implored her husband. "The morning will be on us, and they'll drag me off as sure as fate."

"Listen to me, Alfred," began Hester, in a quiet firm voice. "Will you wait here for a moment? I think I have a plan, but I must go up-stairs and see ayah about it. You need not fear her, she'll be quite faithful——"

"Anyhow we must risk it," he interrupted, with a ring of hope in his voice. "I'll wait, Hester, but be quick, there's not a moment to lose."

Left alone Mr. Rayner threw himself on one of the lounging chairs, then, feeling faint, he remembered that he had not tasted food for many hours.

"Shan't whisper that to her, or she'd be insisting on a good square meal, and that might cost me dear."

He made his way to the dining-room and lit one of the candles in the candelabra which stood on the table. He went to the sideboard and poured himself out a glass of brandy and drank it eagerly. The stimulant nerved him for a little, but he began to grow impatient for his wife's return.

Meanwhile Hester's brain was at work up-stairs. In a whisper she had confided to her ayah that her husband must hurry off at once because he had done something bad which had been found out.

"Something veree bad," repeated the ayah, shaking her head. "Poor gentleman, what a pity it is done find out!"

"When we do wrong it is always found out by God, ayah," replied Hester. "His punishment must come unless we repent and make amends. But I feel we must give him some help. I want to dress my husband in some clothes as unlike his own as possible. Where is that saree and jacket you used to wear in the cold weather. Will you sell it to me, ayah?"

"Sell, missus? I giving, not selling. I go fetch this veree minute."

Hester then hurried downstairs quickly, divulging the plan to her husband.

"First-rate idea!" he said, springing up from his chair. "You're a genius, Hester!"

"Come then," she answered, drawing his arm through hers and leading him up-stairs.

The ayah stood in readiness, holding the required garments.

"Awfully good of you, ayah," said Mr. Rayner almost lightly. "I'll send your saree back again, or better still, your missus will buy you a new one!"

The red saree was soon deftly arranged by the ayah, but when she drew back to regard her work, she shook her head.

"Ai, ai, thatt feringhi white face will spoil all!"

"She's right, Hester," said Rayner, fixing hopeless eyes on his wife.

Hester silently went to her almirah, remembering a little box of colouring powders which had been given her by a visitor to the Rectory when some charades were on foot, and her brothers had to be hastily transformed into Red Indians. She had returned the box next morning, but her friend had said, "Keep it, my dear, you may find it useful yet!" She recalled the words with a sad smile. Yes, she thought, she would find it useful now to help the flight of her husband, to whom she had not been a year married, and to save him, if possible, from being convicted as a forger!

She set about her work, executing it as skilfully as on that happy evening when she had won golden opinions for her clever imitation of the colouring of Red Indians. The old ayah forgot her misery, and fairly clapped her hands when she saw the result. Even Mr. Rayner, when he surveyed himself in the mirror after having the saree draped round his head, said with a relieved air:

"Hester, you're an angel! I declare I'll pass for an old ayah going to visit my granddaughter. Of course my lovely nut brown hue will soon wear off but it may last till I reach—ah, I mustn't mention the place, though! But I'm afraid those bare feet, though brown enough, will take badly to the road, and yet my shoes would give me away."

"But master must have ring on his toe," cried the ayah, and the kindly old woman transferred her own ring from her toe to his.

"You'll need to hurry, Alfred," said Hester. "The dawn is beginning to steal in."

When her husband caught sight of her grief-stricken face, the brief courage which his successful disguise had imparted began to give way.

"Oh, I can't do it, Hester," he moaned. "I'm not fit to go through with it. I'll rather stay and be caught, like a rat in a trap," and he threw himself down on a sofa.

Hester's brave spirit rose with the desperate crisis.

"You must carry out your plan, Alfred. It's too late to draw back now—unless it is any sense that it is wrong to go that makes you shrink? You must not let your faint heart get the upper hand," she said firmly, almost dragging him from the sofa. "Alfred, I want to say something to you," she whispered, as they went downstairs to the verandah. "Will you try to think of what you've done? It's so terrible! Will you cry to God to make you feel the shame and the sin of it all? It is never too late to seek His forgiveness. Nothing else really matters but that in the end," she said softly, and her eyes pleaded more than her words.

"You're a saint," murmured her husband, looking into her face with an awed air. "God bless you, my sweet wife! I was never worthy of you. Old Worsley was right there."

Even in her woe Hester felt surprise at these words. "He's dreaming," she thought, but the time for words was past. Not one moment longer could she allow him to linger. She urged him to go, but he threw himself into a chair.

"It's you who are sending me away," he groaned. "I never thought it would end so. I won't be hoofed out by you like this! No, don't lay a finger on me," he cried, pushing her away as she stooped over him caressingly, as a mother might over a rebellious child. "You'll spoil my make-up if you touch me and then my only chance of escape will be gone!" After a moment he recovered himself and started up. "Look here, Hester, how could I forget? You must share in my gold—I've got plenty here," he said, pulling out one of the bags he had stowed away in the remnants of English clothing which he had retained beneath the thickly pleated folds of the red saree. "See, I'll give you half——"

"Of the money you stole!" cried his wife, with a ring of scorn in her voice. "Not a penny of it! Come what may, it must all be returned to the Mahomedan, whoever he is," she added with decision. The incident seemed to brace her thoughts, though she was conscious that the fact of her husband offering her a share of his theft emphasised the gulf between them. Something of this seemed to strike him also. He stood staring at her with misery in his eyes.

"Oh, Hester, what a hideous mess I've brought you into!" he burst forth. "But you'll not forsake me, will you? This horrid hunt for me will not last long. I'll get off scot free, never fear. We may be able to meet soon and go to England together. I'll send you word. If not together, I'll hurry there, and you'll meet me, won't you, dear?" he asked, clinging to her.

Hester started back on seeing the growing light of the sky.

"Alfred, you're forgetting the risk you run by lingering like this. You must go as long as it is possible. See, it will be day soon. Oh, do go, I implore you," she cried in terror, thinking she heard sounds in the back verandah, and almost pushing him down the steps. "I cannot let you perish! Go, go, oh, do go!"

"I fear I can't risk my make-up by an embrace," he said lightly, looking back as he began to go down the steps. But when he reached the gravel, he darted up again and threw his arms round her trembling figure, kissing her passionately; then he fled, just as the silver dawn was chasing the last shadows of night from the sky.

Hester stood a silent statuesque figure, watching her husband as he disappeared along the avenue of casuarina trees. Then her dauntless spirit gave way and she fell down in a faint.