"No matter. I am to blame for it when it did happen; and now you will never hear another word from me. Would you like me to swear it?"
"That would be rather unpleasant," said Maxwell.
They both felt a great physical fatigue, and they neither had the wish to prolong the evening after dinner. Maxwell was going to lock the door of the apartment at nine o'clock, and then go to bed, when there came a ring at it. He opened it, and stood confronted with Grayson, looking very hot and excited.
"Can I come in a moment?" the manager asked. "Are you alone? Can I speak with you?"
"There's no one here but Mrs. Maxwell," said her husband, and he led the way into the parlor.
"And if you don't like," Louise confessed to have overheard him, "you needn't speak before her even."
"No, no," said the manager, "don't go! We may want your wisdom. We certainly want all the wisdom we can get on the question. It's about Godolphin."
"Godolphin?" they both echoed.
"Yes. He's given up the piece."
The manager drew out a letter, which he handed to Maxwell, and which Louise read with her husband, over his shoulder. It was addressed to Grayson, and began very formally.