bitterest part of all!"

Yet I told him that part with a strange sad pride in her whom I had
lost - through him - forever. As I ended we turned into High Street;
in the prevailing stillness, the faint strains of the band reached
us from the Empress Rooms; and I hailed a crawling hansom as Raffles
turned that way.

"Bunny," said he, "it's no use saying I'm sorry. Sorrow adds insult
in a case like this - if ever there was or will be such another!
Only believe me, Bunny, when I swear to you that I had not the
smallest shadow of a suspicion that she was in the house."

And in my heart of hearts I did believe him; but I could not bring
myself to say the words.

"You told me yourself that you had written to her in the country,"
he pursued.

"And that letter!" I rejoined, in a fresh wave of bitterness: "that
letter she had written at dead of night, and stolen down to post,
it was the one I have been waiting for all these days! I should
have got it to-morrow. Now I shall never get it, never hear from
her again, nor have another chance in this world or in the next.
I don't say it was all your fault. You no more knew that she was
there than I did. But you told me a deliberate lie about her
people, and that I never shall forgive."

I spoke as vehemently as I could under my breath. The hansom was
waiting at the curb.