half-sneeringly at his partner out of his screwed-up eyes.

"I should advise you to keep yourself cool," he said with affected
quietness. "There's more than me'll think a good deal if you chance to
let yourself out like that."

"You do think it!" reiterated Cotherstone passionately. "Damn it, d'ye
think I haven't noticed it? Always looking at me as if--as if----"

"Now then, keep yourself calm," interrupted Mallalieu. "I can look at
you or at any other, in any way I like, can't I? There's no need to
distress yourself--I shan't give aught away. If you took it in your head
to settle matters--as they were settled--well, I shan't say a word. That
is unless--you understand?"

"Understand what?" screamed Cotherstone.

"Unless I'm obliged to," answered Mallalieu. "I should have to make it
clear that I'd naught to do with that particular matter, d'ye see? Every
man for himself's a sound principle. But--I see no need. I don't believe
there'll be any need. And it doesn't matter the value of that pen that's
shaking so in your hand to me if an innocent man suffers--if he's
innocent o' that, he's guilty o' something else. You're safe with me."

Cotherstone flung the pen on the floor and stamped on it. And Mallalieu
laughed cynically and walked slowly across to the door.

"You're a fool, Cotherstone," he said. "Go on a bit more like that, and
you'll let it all out to somebody 'at 'll not keep secrets as I can.
Cool yourself, man, cool yourself!"

"Hang you!" shouted Cotherstone. "Mind I don't let something out about
you! Where were you that night, I should like to know? Or, rather, I do
know! You're no safer than I am! And if I told what I do know----"

Mallalieu, with his hand on the latch, turned and looked his partner in
the face--without furtiveness, for once.

"And if you told aught that you do, or fancy you know," he said quietly,
"there'd be ruin in your home, you soft fool! I thought you wanted
things kept quiet for your lass's sake? Pshaw!--you're taking leave o'
your senses!"

He walked out at that, and Cotherstone, shaking with anger, relapsed
into a chair and cursed his fate. And after a time he recovered himself
and began to think, and his thoughts turned instinctively to Lettie.

Mallalieu was right--of course, he was right! Anything that he,
Cotherstone, could say or do in the way of bringing up the things that
must be suppressed would ruin Lettie's chances. So, at any rate, it
seemed to him. For Cothers