CHAPTER XX.
TWO TO ONE I looked across at the woman, who was waiting my answer with every appearance of feverish interest.
"What should I know about him ?" I said slowly.

"I have been told that he is dead.

I know no more than that." She started as though my words had stung her.
"It is not possible!" she exclaimed.

"I must have heard of it.

When he left me--it was less than three months ago--he seemed better than I had known him for years." "All my life," I said, "I have understood that my father died by his own hand after his disgrace.