Reginald lifted the glass against the light and gulped its contents. Then in a lower voice he recommenced: “Like the chameleon, I have the power of absorbing the colour of my environment.”

“Do you mean that you have the power of absorbing the special virtues of other people?” she interjected.

“That is exactly what I mean.”

“Oh!” she cried, for in a heart-beat many things had become clear to her. For the first time she realised, still vaguely but with increasing vividness, the hidden causes of her ruin and, still more plainly, the horrible danger of Ernest Fielding.

He noticed her agitation, and a look of psychological curiosity came into his eyes.