Time sped on and nothing happened to alarm or upset Helen untill a certain October morning.

She had just commenced her breakfast, when in came Cyril attired in his best black suit and stiff collar.

"Why Cyril" cried Helen "how very early you are."

"Yes I am" responded Cyril triumphantly "I am going to see a friend who lives in Piccadilly and I doubt if I shall be back before 10 or 11 tonight."

"Really?" said Helen, "well make a good breakfast or you'll be quite done up."

Cyril made a hearty meal and then went to the front door to see if the weather promised to be fair; it looked rather gloomy, but no rain fell. As though a sudden thought had struck him, Cyril turned round and entered the office.

"Netherby" he cried sharply "who's afternoon out is it, your's or Wilson's?

"It is Mr. Wilson's sir" replied Netherby.

"Then see he does'nt have it" said Cyril shortly "I have my own reasons for wishing you both to remain at home today, and dont forget the office is in your charge today Netherby; admit no gossiping women or tradesmen."

"No sir" replied the clerk. Cyril turned to leave the office, nearly knocking Helen over as he did so. "Are you off?" she enquired "put on your overcoat dear, it is very chilly."

"All right" said Cyril and he reached his blue melton from the peg.

As Helen was helping him on with his coat she noticed something silver sticking out of the breast pocket.

"Why whatever is this?" she asked in supprise, "it looks like the best silver tea pot."

"Best silver tea pot!" cried Cyril scornfully, as though a man cant carry his cigarette case about with him."

But he looked uncommonly angry for all that and Helen had seen and felt quite enough to convince her that it was the best tea pot and she felt her heart turn sick as she closed the front door after Cyril's retreating figure.