His words were casual and careless; but Valley’s suggestion hit him hard. It was the same hint that Miss Gault had made last Sunday. Was it possible that the accursed mood he’d fallen into⁠ ⁠… this mood of miserable apathy⁠ ⁠… had as much to do with the wedding as with the loss of his great secret?

His companion had difficulty now in keeping up with him, so fast did he walk. Presently he said: “Tell me this, Valley, if you don’t mind⁠ ⁠… did you see what Urquhart was doing just now?”

They were close to the Otters’ house when he spoke. He could distinguish the light from the drawing-room shining between the branches of the poplars. Valley laid his hand on his arm and clutched it tightly, compelling him to stop. The man’s face was a patch of wavering greyness against the blanket of the dark, but he could detect its extreme distress.