n love with her--not a boy mind, but a
man claiming a man's right to marry where he loves. And at once in
Hazlewood conventional man awakes."

"Dear me, no," interposed Harold Hazlewood.

"But I say yes," Pettifer continued imperturbably. "Conventional man
awakes in him and cries loudly against the marriage. Then there's myself.
I am fond of Dick. I have no child. He will be my heir and I am not poor.
He is doing well in his profession. To be an Instructor of the Staff
Corps at his age means hard work, keenness, ability. I look forward to a
great career. I am very fond of him. And--understand me, Mr. Thresk"--he
checked his speech and weighed his words very carefully--"I wouldn't say
that he shouldn't marry Stella Ballantyne just because Stella Ballantyne
has lain under a grave charge of which she has been acquitted. No, I may
be as formal as my brother-in-law thinks, but I hold a wider faith than
that. But I am not satisfied. That is the truth, Mr. Thresk. I am not
sure of what happened in that tent in far-away Chitipur after you had
ridden away to catch the night mail to Bombay."

Robert Pettifer had made his confession simply and with some dignity.
Thresk looked at him for a few moments. Was he wondering whether he
could answer the questions? Was he hesitating through anger at the
trick which had been played upon him? Pettifer could not tell. He waited
in suspense. Thresk pushed his chair back suddenly and came forward from
behind the table.

"Ask your questions," he said.

"You consent to answer them?" Mr. Hazlewood cried joyously, and Thresk
replied with coldness:

"I must. For if I don't consent your suspicions at once are double what
they were. But I am not pleased."

"Oh, we practised a little diplomacy," said Hazlewood, making light of
his offence.

"Diplomacy!" For the first time a gleam of anger shone in Thresk's eyes.
"You have got me to your house by a trick. You have abused your position
as my host. And but that I should injure a woman whom life has done
nothing but injure I should go out of your door this instant."

He turned his back upon Harold Hazlewood and sat down in a chair opposite
to Robert Pettifer. A little round table separated them. Pettifer, seated
upon a couch, took from his pocket the envelope with the press-cuttings
and spread them on the table in front of him. Thresk lolled back in his
chair. It was plain that he was in no terror of Pettifer's examination.

"I am at your servi