s good in
everybody."

"Generally," Berrington admitted. "But you are an exception that proves
the rule."

"Indeed I am not. There is good in me. I tell you and I am going to do a
kind and disinterested action to-night. I swear that if you interfere
you will be the cause of great unhappiness in a certain household in
which I am interested. I implore you not to let your idle curiosity
bring about this thing. I appeal to you as a gentleman."

In spite of himself Berrington was touched. He had never regarded
Sartoris as anything of an actor, and he seemed to be in deadly earnest
now. Was it just possible that the man had it in him to do a kindly
thing? If so it seemed a pity to thwart him. Berrington looked fairly
and squarely into the eyes of the speaker, but they did not waver in the
least. The expression of Sartoris's face was one of hopelessness, not
free altogether from contempt.

"I can't say any more," he said. "Open the door by all means, and spoil
everything. It is in your hands to do so and curse your own vulgar
curiosity afterwards. Call me mad if you like, but I had planned to do a
kind thing to-night."

"So that you may benefit from it in the end?" Berrington suggested.

"Well, put it that way if you like," Sartoris said with fine
indifference. "But it does not matter. You can sit down again. The
knocker has gone, evidently."

But the door sounded again. Sartoris turned aside with a sigh. Despite
his suspicions, Berrington felt that his conscience was troubling him.
He would never forgive himself if he prevented a kind action being done
to one who cruelly needed it. He rose and crossed the room.

"Let it be as you like," he said. "I will promise not to interfere. As
soon as you have finished I should like to have a few words with you
here. After that I shall feel free to depart."

Sartoris nodded, but the triumph that filled him found no expression on
his face. Berrington was no better than a fool, after all; a few fair
words had disarmed him. Sartoris would gain all he wanted and when that
was done he would take good care that Berrington did not leave the
house. The man was by no means at the end of his cunning resources yet.
He moved his chair in the direction of the hall.

"You have made a very wise decision," he said. "And I thank you for
having some confidence in me. Will you wait for me in the dining-room?"

Berrington intimated that he would go into the dining-room and smoke a
cigar. He wa