Dick studied her with some surprise. He had thought her gentle and trustful, but saw that she burned with imperious anger. It certainly was not acting and contradicted the supposition of her guilt. "If I did hint anything of the kind, I must have been a bit light-headed," he answered awkwardly. "You get morbid fancies when you have fever." "The fever had nearly gone. You were braver then than you seem to be now." "I suppose that's true. Sometimes a shock gives you pluck and I got a nasty one as I began to remember things." Both were silent for the next few moments. Clare's pose was tense and her look strained, but her anger had vanished. Dick thought she was calmer than himself, but after all, she was, so to speak, on her defense and her part was easier than his. He had forgiven her for robbing him; Kenwardine had forced her to do so, and Dick regretted he had not hidden his knowledge of the deed she must have hated. It was bodily weakness that had led him to show his suspicion, but he knew that if they were to be friends again no reserve was possible. As Clare had said, the explanation must be complete. It was strange, after what had happened, that he should want her friendship, but he did want it, more than anything else. Yet she must be told plainly what he had thought her. He shrank from the task. "What did you remember?" Clare asked, forcing herself to look at him. "That I had the plans in the left, top pocket of my uniform when I reached your house; I felt to see if they were there as I came up the drive," he answered doggedly. "Soon afterward, you slipped as we went down the steps into the garden and in clutching me your hand caught and pulled the pocket open. It was a deep pocket and the papers could not have fallen out." "So you concluded that I had stolen them!" Clare said in a cold, strained voice, though her face flushed crimson. "What else could I think?" Then, though she tried to hide the breakdown, Clare's nerve gave way. She had forced the crisis in order to clear herself, but saw that she could not do so. Dick's statement was convincing; the papers had been stolen while he was in their house, and she had a horrible suspicion that her father was the thief. It came with a shock, though she had already been tormented by a vague fear of the truth that she had resolutely refused to face. She remembered the men who were at the house on the eventful night. They were somewhat dissipated young sportsmen and not remarkable for intelligence. None of them was likely to take part in such a plot. "You must understand what a serious thing you are saying," she faltered, trying to doubt him and finding that she could not. "I do," he said, regarding her with gravely pitiful eyes. "Still, you rather forced it out of me. Perhaps this is a weak excuse, because I had meant to forget the matter." "But didn't you want to clear yourself and get taken back?"