Mr. Talbot sat down suddenly, a comical figure, the more so since the dried mud about his eyes and the corner of his mouth made it impossible that he should express his intense fear. As it was, he spoke with difficulty and without opening his mouth wider than the mud allowed. "You shall pay for thish, Morelle--vy God!" "I want you to write me a letter which I shall give to Miss Merville apologizing for your insulting note to the doctor--" With a gurgle of rage, Talbot sprang at him. Ronnie half turned and struck twice. The butler heard the thud of a falling body; it shook the house. Still he hesitated. "Get up," said Ronnie. "I am afraid I have dislocated your beauty spots, Jerry, but you'll be able to talk more freely." Mr. Talbot nursed his jaw, but continued to sit on the floor. His jaw was aching and his head was going round and round. But he was an intelligent man. When he did get up he opened a writing bureau and, at Ronnie's dictation, wrote. "Thank you, Jerry," Ronnie pocketed the letter. "Perhaps when I have gone you will regret having written and will complain to the police; you may even write a worse letter to the doctor--who hasn't seen your first epistle, by the way. I must risk that. If you do, I shall certainly destroy you. I shall be sorry because--well, because I don't think you deserve death. You can be adjusted. Most people can. Will you put a stamp on the envelope, Jerry?" At the street door: "Perhaps you will lose your job because you have admitted me, Brien. If that happens, will you come to me, please?" The dazed butler said he would. Ronnie stopped at a pillar box to post the letter and walked home. XI Jan Steppe was an early riser. He was up at six; at seven o'clock he was at his desk with the contents of the morning newspapers completely digested. By the time most people were sleepily inquiring the state of the weather, he had dealt with his correspondence and had prepared his daily plan.