It did not take Anstice long to discover that the accusation against him—an accusation all the more difficult to refute because of the half-truth on which it was based—had been disseminated throughout Littlefield with a thoroughness which implied a determination on the part of the anonymous writer to leave no prominent resident in the neighbourhood in ignorance of Anstice's supposed cowardice on that bygone day in India.

He could not help noticing as he went here and there on his daily business that some of his patients looked askance at him, although they did their best to hide their new and rather disconcerting interest in him. So far as he knew, none of his patients forsook him for another and less notorious doctor, but he was keenly alive to the altered manner of some of those whom he attended, and although at present it was evident that he was not yet condemned—after all, no fair-minded person condemns another solely on the evidence of a tale-bearer who is ashamed to put his name to the stories he relates—yet Anstice felt with a quick galling of his pride that he was on probation, as it were, that those with whom he came in contact were considering what verdict they should pass upon him. And although his indifference to that verdict equalled Mrs. Carstairs' former indifference to the opinion of these same neighbours, his soul was seared with the thought that his unhappy story—or rather a garbled version of it—was common property among those men and women whom he had served faithfully to the best of his ability during the eighteen months he had spent in Littlefield.

On one thing he was fully determined. So soon as this mystery should be solved—and he fancied a solution was no longer impossible—he would leave the place, resign the position which had become tedious, unbearably tedious in its cramped monotony, and seek some other place, in England or abroad, where he might have leisure to pursue those studies in research which had been so ruthlessly cut short by his own most unhappy miscalculation.

True, he no longer cared for fame. The possibility of some renown crowning his toil no longer danced before his eyes with alluring promises. The part of him which had craved success, recognition, the youthful, vital part of him was dead, slain by the same bullet which had ended poor Hilda Ryder's happy life; and although he was beginning to look forward to a new and less cramped career than this which now shackled him, the joyous, optimistic anticipation of youth was sadly missing.

It was impossible that once at work the old interest in his subject might awake; but now he would work for the work's sake only, for the sake of the distraction it might afford him; and though through all his troubles he had preserved, at bottom, the quick humanity which had led him to choose medicine as his career, he was thinking less now of his old ambition to find a means of alleviation for one of the greatest ills of mankind than of the zest which the renewed study of the subject might restore to his own overshadowed life.

Yet although he was determined to turn his back as soon as he decently might on Littlefield and its people, with the perversity of mankind he was equally determined to see them brought to confusion before he left them—see them impelled to admit that in the case of Mrs. Carstairs they had been unjust, prejudiced, and, most galling of all, misled; and the question of his own vindication was only a secondary matter after all.

One day he heard, casually, that Major Carstairs was expected at Cherry Orchard, and when he entered his house at lunch-time he found a note from Chloe asking him to call upon her between tea and dinner and remain, if possible, for the latter meal. In any case she asked him to come for half an hour, at least, and he rang her up at once and fixed six o'clock for the time of his call upon her.

At six accordingly he entered the drawing-room, and found Major Carstairs in possession, as it were, standing on the hearth-rug with the air of a man at home in his own house. Before Anstice had time to wonder how this situation had arisen Chloe advanced, smiling, and held out her hand.

"Good-evening, Dr. Anstice. I think you and my husband have met already."

In these words she announced her cognizance of that meeting in Piccadilly a few days earlier, and Anstice acknowledged the supposition to be correct, relieved to see by her smile that she did not grudge his former secrecy.

"Yes, by Jove! Dr. Anstice came to the rescue or I'd have had a nasty fall on the pavement," said Major Carstairs genially. "And by the way, I declare I'm quite jealous of your supremacy with Cherry! She does nothing but talk of you, and I hear she infinitely prefers your car to her mother's!"

"Yes, Cherry and I are very good friends," said Anstice with a smile. "We had a slight difference last week because I wouldn't allow her to drive that same car; but Cherry is always amenable to reason, and when I pointed out to her that she had no licence, and might possibly be reported by some interfering police-constable and get us both into trouble she gave in like a lamb. By the way, Mrs. Carstairs, where is she to-night? Not in disgrace again, I hope?"

"No, she's as good as gold to-day because she is to sit up to dinner to-night," said Chloe, smiling—Anstice thought her smiles came more readily than usual this evening. "I believe she is making an elaborate toilette upstairs just now; and I admit I was glad to have her occupied, for I wanted, if you and my husband agree, to talk over the matters of the letters—and Tochatti."

For a second Anstice felt uncomfortable, but Major Carstairs probably noted his discomfort, for he turned to him with a sincerity there was no doubting.

"Look here, Dr. Anstice, you have been—luckily for us, if I may say so—mixed up in this most unsavoury affair, and from what my wife tells me I believe you are going to be the means of clearing it up—a consummation most devoutly to be wished."

Anstice's embarrassment vanished before the soldier's frankness.

"I only hope you may be right, Major Carstairs," he said, looking the other man squarely in the face. "Personally, since I intended to leave Littlefield before long in any case, these wretched slanders don't affect me much. The few friends I have made in this place are not likely to give credence to the rumour which has been spread broadcast in the last week or two—and for the rest——"

"I understand your indifference to the opinion of 'the rest,'" said Major Carstairs, smiling, "but I think it will be more satisfactory for all of us when the affair is really cleared up. But won't you sit down? Chloe tells me it is too late for tea—but you'll have a peg?"

"Not for me, thanks." Anstice was too intent on the matter in hand to turn to side issues. "If you don't mind giving me your opinion on the subject—do you think it possible that the woman Tochatti is the one to blame?"

"Well——" Major Carstairs sat down as he spoke, and since Chloe had already taken her accustomed seat in a corner of the big couch, Anstice followed their joint example. "Personally I have never been able to conquer a dislike, which I always put down as absolutely unjust and uncharitable, for the woman. I know she has served my wife faithfully, and her devotion to our little daughter has been beyond praise. But"—he smiled rather deprecatingly—"even ten years in India haven't apparently cured me of British insularity, and I have never liked foreigners—especially half-breeds such as Tochatti, Italian on one side, English on the other."

"Then you think it possible, at least, that she may be the culprit?"

"I do, quite possible. And I thank God from the bottom of my heart for the bare possibility," returned Major Carstairs deliberately, and his words and manner both served to assure Anstice that at last this man had been brought to believe, wholeheartedly, in his wife's innocence.

Anstice never knew, either then or afterwards, exactly how the miracle had come about. Indeed, so subtle are the workings of a man's heart, so complex and incomprehensible the thoughts and motives which touch a soul to finer issues, that it is quite possible Major Carstairs himself could not have told how or when he first began to realize that his judgment might well be at fault, that his own stern honesty and unflinching integrity, which would not permit him to subscribe outwardly to a belief which inwardly he did not hold, might after all have been stumbling-blocks in the way of true understanding rather than the righteous bulwarks which he had fancied them.

Probably the conviction that he had misjudged his wife had been stealing imperceptibly into Major Carstairs' mind during many lonely days spent on the Indian Frontier; and though he could never have stated with any degree of certainty the exact moment in which he understood, at last, that his wife, the woman he had married, the mother of his child, was incapable of the action which a censorious and unkind world had been ready to attribute to her, when once that conviction entered his honest, logical, if somewhat stubborn mind, it had found a home there for ever.

His chance meeting with Anstice, whose belief in Mrs. Carstairs was too genuine to be doubted for an instant, had come at an opportune moment, setting, as it were, the seal on his own changed judgment; and being essentially a man of honour, upright and just to a fault, he deemed it not only a duty but a privilege to come directly to his wife, and while asking her pardon for his unjustifiable suspicions, assure her of his firm determination to see her innocence made manifest before all the world.

Something of this Anstice guessed as he watched the interchange of glances between husband and wife on this bitter November evening, and he told himself that few women would have accepted their husband's tardy reparation as this woman had done. It did not need a magician to know that husband and wife were truly reunited, and though some might have been inclined to label Chloe Carstairs poor-spirited in that she had apparently forgiven her husband's mistrust so easily, Anstice told himself that Chloe was a woman in a thousand, that this very forgiveness and lack of any natural resentment showed the unalloyed fineness, the pure gold of her character, as nothing else could have done.

It was Chloe who broke the silence which followed Major Carstairs' last words, and as he looked at her Anstice was struck suddenly by the change in her appearance this evening. Where she had hitherto been cold, impassive, indifferent, now she was warm, glowing, responsive. In her pale cheeks was a most unusual wild-rose colour and her blue, almond-shaped eyes held a light which made them look like two beautiful sapphires shining in the sun.

When she spoke her rich, deep voice lost its undertone of melancholy, and rang joyously, with the soft beauty of a 'cello's lower notes.

"You see, Dr. Anstice, your faith in me—for which I have never attempted to thank you—is at last within measure of being justified!" She smiled happily. "And although Tochatti has served me faithfully she cannot be allowed to go on with this thing—if she be the one responsible. The question is, How is it to be brought home to her?"

Thus encouraged Anstice again outlined the plan he had formerly suggested—that a watch should be set during the night; but, as he had half expected, Chloe did not give it her unqualified approval.

"No, Dr. Anstice." She spoke too gently to cause him offence. "I don't think, honestly, I like the idea. Can't I speak openly, ask her quite plainly why she has done this thing—what perverted notion of—well, resentment she has against me which would lead her to act in this manner?"

To Anstice's relief Major Carstairs vetoed this plan, unhesitatingly.

"No, Chloe, that is an absolutely impossible suggestion! As Dr. Anstice says, guile must be met with guile, and the only way to catch this woman is to take her absolutely red-handed. And if, as you seem to think, she is likely to creep down in the night—well, it could do no harm to set a watch."

"There is one reason against that delightfully simple plan of yours," objected Chloe. "Tochatti would not be likely to write any more of these letters with you in the house, Leo. You see, it would be very serious for her if you encountered her at my writing-table in the night!"

Before Carstairs could reply Anstice spoke rather diffidently.

"I have just one suggestion to make, Major Carstairs. Am I right in supposing you are staying down here to-night?"

A fleeting embarrassment was visible on the faces of both Major Carstairs and his wife; but the former answered resolutely:

"Yes. I am certainly hoping to stay here."

"Well, if I might just make a suggestion, why not give out that you are returning to town to-night and coming down to stay to-morrow or the next day? Tochatti would probably, thinking this her last opportunity, make haste to seize it and write another letter or two—possibly the last—to-night."

"You mean give out that I am returning to town to-night; start, in fact, in reality, and come back later, when the house is quiet?"

"Yes," said Anstice, wondering what the soldier thought of his amateur strategy. "Then you—and anyone else you choose—could sit up here and wait events."

"I admire the simplicity of your plan, Dr. Anstice," returned Carstairs with an irrepressible laugh. "I've been called upon to exercise diplomacy at times myself, but I don't think I ever hit on anything more telling in the way of a plan than this charmingly simple one of yours!"

"You approve of it, then?" Anstice was in no wise offended by the other's mirth.

"Highly—it's just the plan to appeal to me," said Carstairs, still smiling infectiously; and Chloe rose from her couch and coming to his chair seated herself on the arm and rested her hand on his shoulder.

"I know why the plan appeals to you, Leo! It recalls your schoolboy days, when you pretended to go to bed and then stole out to skate by moonlight!"

"Hush, hush, Chloe! Never tell tales out of school," commanded the Major in mock alarm; but Anstice noticed how the man's brown fingers closed round his wife's hand, and suddenly he felt as though this spectacle of their reunion was too tantalizing to be pleasant to a sore heart like his own.

He rose rather abruptly, and both the others looked at him with a little surprise.

"You're not going, Anstice? Surely you'll stay to dinner? My little daughter will be sorely disappointed if you run away now!"

"Do stay, Dr. Anstice!" Chloe rose too, and her eyes, like two beautiful blue jewels, shone kindly into his. "Our scheme will have to be discussed further, won't it? We mustn't take the field with an ill-prepared plan, must we, Leo?"

"Indeed we must not," returned her husband quickly. "Especially as I was going to ask a very big favour of you. Dr. Anstice! Seeing how more than good you have been in interesting yourself in this affair, I have been wondering whether you wouldn't conceivably like to be in at the death, so to speak. In plain words, I was going to ask you if you would care to be my fellow-conspirator in this nefarious plot we have hatched between us!"

"You mean—will I sit up with you to-night?" Anstice spoke eagerly, and Chloe smiled.

"Well, you're not annoyed by the suggestion, anyway! I needn't say I should appreciate your company—though after all, it is a big thing to ask a man of your calling to sacrifice the rest he must need pretty badly!" He spoke rather dubiously.

"Oh, not a bit of it, Major Carstairs!" Anstice's eyes brightened at the thought of the adventure. "In a matter of this kind two witnesses are better than one; and there is always a chance that even a woman may turn nasty when she finds herself cornered—especially one who is half a foreigner," he added with a smile.

"Then you'll come? It's awfully good of you——"

"Not at all, sir. You forget I'm an interested party," said Anstice quickly. "It is as much to my interest to clear the matter up as to yours, now. Well, what about details? Where—and how—shall we meet, and how do we get into the house without anyone knowing?"

"Ah, yes. That requires thought."

Major Carstairs rubbed his hands together gaily, and Chloe burst out laughing.

"You two are nothing but schoolboys," she said joyously. "I believe you are both looking forward to this midnight adventure! You'd be quite disappointed if there were no need for your masterly plot after all!"

Anstice and Major Carstairs looked rather shamefacedly at one another; but Chloe was merciful and restrained further mockery for the time.

"Well, now I will make my suggestion," she said. "Leave the house in the usual way, by the front door; and come back, at whatever hour you agree upon, to the window here. I will let you in myself, and not a soul need know you have re-entered the house."

"Very well," Carstairs nodded. "One suggestion though. Leave the window open—no one will see behind those curtains, and go to bed as usual yourself. Depend upon it, if Tochatti is really the culprit, she will take all means of satisfying herself that you are safely in bed before she begins her work, and it would not do for her to find your room empty at midnight."

Chloe paled a little, and when she spoke her voice was uneasy.

"Leo, do you really think Tochatti is so—so malicious? I can't bear to think of her being with Cherry—she is with her almost night and day, you know—if she is so dreadful, so dangerous a character——"

"You need not be afraid, Mrs. Carstairs." It was Anstice who spoke, reassuringly. "The little one is quite safe with her, I am sure of that. If it really does turn out that Tochatti has been to blame, I feel convinced that we shall find she is not altogether responsible for her actions——"

"But that's worse still!" Chloe's voice was really alarmed. "If she is mad—a lunatic——"

"I did not mean quite that," said Anstice. "I meant—well, it is rather a difficult subject to enter into at a moment's notice; but—have you ever heard of a dual personality?"

"A dual personality?" She repeated the words, her white brow wrinkling with the effort of concentration. "I think I know what you mean—a person with two sides to his character, so to speak—of which first one is in the ascendant and then the other?"

"Kind of Jekyll and Hyde business, what?" Major Carstairs knew his Stevenson, and Anstice nodded.

"Well, something like that, though not so pronounced. There really are such people, you know—it is not only a fantastic tale that a man may lead a kind of double life, speaking in a spiritual and not a physical sense. You don't call such people lunatics, nor are they, save in extreme cases, criminals. But it is quite possible for a woman like Tochatti to devote one half of herself to your service—and serve you admirably!—and lead what seems in all respects an open and above-board existence; and yet, through some kink in her character, stoop to an action one would expect to find only in a woman of a thoroughly debased nature."

He paused, but neither of his hearers spoke.

"It is as if a lower spirit entered into these people at times, driving them to do things which in a normal state they would be quite incapable of doing. You know the old Biblical theory of possession? Well, the same thing, under another name, is to be met with to-day; and for my part, when I come across the case of a person whose present behaviour contradicts all the actions of his previous life, upsets all the data, so to speak, which I have been able to gather of his conduct in the past, well, I put it down, mentally, to that peculiar theory of 'possession' with which the Easterns in the time of Christ were apparently perfectly familiar."

"As they are to-day," said Major Carstairs unexpectedly; and Anstice looked gratified at the corroboration. "It is a strange theory, I own, but after what I have seen in India I confess I find it perfectly feasible."

"And you think my poor Tochatti may be a victim to this old form of demonism?" Chloe addressed the question to Anstice, and he answered it after a momentary hesitation.

"Well, it is too soon to make any sweeping statement of that kind, Mrs. Carstairs, but I must acknowledge it is hard to reconcile the woman's general behaviour with an action of this kind without some such theory. However"—he glanced at the clock—"if you will excuse me I must really get home. There will be all sorts of complaints from my surgery patients if they are kept waiting!"

"One moment, Anstice! I take it you will come back to-night? Though really it is a jolly big thing to ask...." Major Carstairs tone was apologetic.

"Of course, and we must settle where we meet. But first, shouldn't we let Tochatti know that you are not staying here to-night?"

"Why, yes." Chloe moved towards the boll. "I'll send for Cherry—that will bring Tochatti—and you can allude to your departure then."

Three minutes later Tochatti appeared, in charge of the excited Cherry, who flew at Anstice, and, quite regardless of her immaculately frilled muslin dress, flung herself into his arms and kissed him demonstratively.

"Oh, my dear, what ages since I've seen you!" Her tone was a faithful copy of the parlourmaid's greeting to a recent visitor to the kitchen. "Are you going to stay to dinner? I do hope so, 'cos I'm going to sit up and there's lovely things—lots of roasted pheasants and meringues all filled with squelchy cream!"

"Alas, Cherry, I can't stop!" Anstice's comically regretful tone made Chloe smile. "I shall have to go home and see my patients. And if I get a chop——"

"And a chipped potato, my dear," prompted Cherry.

"And a chipped potato," concurred Anstice obediently, "I shall think myself lucky! But I wish you hadn't told me there were to be lots of pheasants!"

"They're for Daddy, speshully," said Cherry, "'cos he's got sick of chickens in Injia—but I like the bready sauce and the little brown crumbs best!"

"And that reminds me," said Major Carstairs, looking at his watch rather ostentatiously, "I should be glad if you could put forward dinner a little, Chloe. I must catch the nine-thirty to town."

"Oh, Daddy, you're not going to-night!" Cherry forsook Anstice for the moment and clambered on to her father's knee. "You said you were going to stop and you'd come and tell me stories in bed!"

"I did, and I don't like breaking my word to a lady," said Major Carstairs seriously, "but I really must go back to town to-night, and I'll come down to-morrow or the next day, and stay a long, long time!"

"You might tell Hagyard Major Carstairs will not be staying to-night, Tochatti," said Chloe, turning to the woman, and Anstice's quick eyes caught the look of relief compounded with something like surprise which flashed across Tochatti's swarthy countenance.

"Bene, Signora." With a strange look at Anstice, a look which did not escape the notice of the person at whom it was levelled, Tochatti withdrew, and since further conversation was impossible in Cherry's presence, Anstice made his farewells and went out to the car, escorted by his host, who seized the opportunity to fix the details of the evening's later meeting.

"You will leave the house about a quarter to nine, I suppose?" asked Anstice. "Well, look here, why not come round to my place to fill in the time until we can go back? We shall be alone, and unless I'm called out—which I trust won't happen—we can have a quiet chat and a smoke."

"Right. I'll be at your place about nine, and if you're busy I can read the paper, you know. Till then, au revoir!"

Anstice nodded and mounted to the steering seat, and Major Carstairs went back into the house, wondering why the younger man's face wore so sad an expression in repose.

"Of course that Indian affair was rather a facer, but the story's some years old by now and one would think he'd have got over it. As decent a fellow as I've ever met. But he seems altogether too old for his age, and even when he smiles or jokes with the child he doesn't look happy. I wonder if Chloe knows any reason for his melancholy air?"

And with the question still uppermost in his mind he went back to the drawing-room in search of his wife and child.