“It isn’t a question of hair-splitting,” said his host. “It’s a question of cold facts. If the charge is dismissed—as it will be—he could sue you for slander for this, and just waltz home.” Elizabeth was speaking. “Will somebody please tell me exactly what’s happened?” “I will,” said her host. “Dick had a smash late on Sunday night. Nobody was hurt. He was arrested and charged. They say he smelt of liquor and a bottle was found in the car. He appeared on Monday morning and pleaded ‘Not guilty.’ Evidence of arrest was given and the case was adjourned for a week.” “What’s to-day?” said Elizabeth. “Friday.” “Thank you. Go on.” “That’s all, dear,” said Mrs. Fairie. “We didn’t tell you, because——” “You did, though, didn’t you?” said Elizabeth, looking Sir Hilton in the face. “I naturally assumed——” “Quite a hobby of yours, isn’t it? Recreations—golf, yachting, assumption. You assumed that he was drunk. You assumed that I knew about it. I suppose you assumed that, in view of my knowledge, I should relish your recent conversation, including the fact that you had written to _The Times_, urging ‘the infliction of penalties—imprisonment, of course—so harsh . . .’” She stopped dead there. Then her voice rang out. “_Why did you write that letter?_” Sir Hilton started. “‘Why?’” “Yes. Why?” “Well—er—because, I suppose, I felt——” “Was it in the hope that it would appear on the day Dick’s case came on?” “Good Heavens, Elizabeth! What——” “Cut it out,” said the girl, quietly. “I know. And so do Madge and Harry. We all three know. And so do you. And I’ll tell you another thing we know—we three. We know Dick wasn’t drunk.” “Right!” cried the Fairies in a breath. “And so do you,” said Elizabeth, rising. “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Shutter. “If I like to——” The girl stretched out her hand. “Just hold my drink for a minute, will you?” she said. Mechanically, Sir Hilton received the glass. Elizabeth took off her pearls and slid an enormous emerald off her finger. She pitched the gems together at Shutter’s feet. Then she looked into his eyes. “How I came to make such a mistake, I can’t conceive. I think I must have been mad. To be perfectly honest, I liked the idea of being rich. As far as you’re concerned, I’m not so terribly to blame, because, when you asked me to marry you, you dangled your rotten wealth before my eyes. You prayed it in aid of your suit. And I thought it was good enough, I did. . . . Well, I find I was wrong.” “But, Elizabeth——” “My good sir, _I wouldn’t be seen dead with you._” She stretched out her hand. “Thank you.” She took the glass from his fingers and flung the liquor in his face. Sir Hilton recoiled and Madge Fairie started to her feet. Lady Elizabeth and Fairie stood perfectly still. Floating from behind closed doors, the lilt of the latest fox-trot disputed possession of the silence with the pleasant flare and crackle of the logs in the grate. * * * * *