" he
asked, half rising from his chair. "You aren't like the man towards
Andover?"

"Please, please sit down," said Agnes, in the even tones she used
when speaking to the servants; "let us not discuss side issues. I am a
horribly direct person, Mr. Wonham. I go always straight to the point."
She opened a chequebook. "I am afraid I shall shock you. For how much?"

He was not attending.

"There is the paper we suggest you shall sign." She pushed towards him a
pseudo-legal document, just composed by Herbert.

"In consideration of the sum of..., I agree to perpetual silence--to
restrain from libellous...never to molest the said Frederick Elliot by
intruding--'"

His brain was not quick. He read the document over twice, and he could
still say, "But what's that cheque for?"

"It is my husband's. He signed for you as soon as we heard you were
here. We guessed you had come to be silenced. Here is his signature. But
he has left the filling in for me. For how much? I will cross it, shall
I? You will just have started a banking account, if I understand Mrs.
Failing rightly. It is not quite accurate to say you are penniless: I
heard from her just before you returned from your cricket. She allows
you two hundred a-year, I think. But this additional sum--shall I date
the cheque Saturday or for tomorrow?"

At last he found words. Knocking his pipe out on the table, he said
slowly, "Here's a very bad mistake."

"It is quite possible," retorted Agnes. She was glad she had taken the
offensive, instead of waiting till he began his blackmailing, as had
been the advice of Rickie. Aunt Emily had said that very spring, "One's
only hope with Stephen is to start bullying first." Here he was, quite
bewildered, smearing the pipe-ashes with his thumb. He asked to read the
document again. "A stamp and all!" he remarked.

They had anticipated that his claim would exceed two pounds.

"I see. All right. It takes a fool a minute. Never mind. I've made a bad
mistake."

"You refuse?" she exclaimed, for he was standing at the door. "Then do
your worst! We defy you!"

"That's all right, Mrs. Elliot," he said roughly. "I don't want a scene
with you, nor yet with your husband. We'll say no more about it. It's
all right. I mean no harm."

"But your signature then! You must sign--you--"

He pushed past her, and said as he reached for his cap, "There, that's
all right. It's my mistake. I'm sorry." He spoke like a farmer who has
failed to sell