"Wait. I want you to promise me, by the man we hold mutually sacred, that you will do as I ask. No matter at what inconvenience or danger." "I will do anything you ask," said Beryl quietly. "What time do you meet this Steppe?" "I call for him at eight o'clock. The boat train leaves at nine-thirty." "At eight o'clock you will go to Ronnie Morelle." "No, no! I can't do that--" "You promised. You will see him: go to his flat and see him. Tell him you are married. Tell him the truth, that you are going away with a man you hate. Tell him that Steppe knows." "I can't! You don't know what you're asking, Christina, I've--begged Ronnie before--begged him to run away with me. I can't do that again. It is impossible." "You need beg nothing--nothing. Just tell him." She caught the girl to her. "Beryl, you're going to do what I ask you, dear?" "Yes--you wouldn't ask me--" "Out of caprice," finished Christina, "or cussedness, or a wish to try experiments. No. But you must go, Beryl. I--I think I should kill myself if you didn't." "Christina! What do you mean?" "I mean it is life to go and death not to go!" said Christina, with a sort of ferocity that staggered her companion. "That is what I mean." In a quieter tone: "Have you seen Ronald lately?" Beryl shook her head. "No. I saw him that night--the night they killed Ambrose--oh--" "Don't gulp," warned Christina. "I'm not gulping. I'm yearning. I saw him yearning once, the dear, I am trying to find some of his strength now. It is a little difficult." On the way home Christina dropped into a telephone booth and paid three precious pennies. "Ronnie! Christina speaking. Beryl is coming to see you tonight. At eight. Wait for her--don't dare to be out." She cut off before he could ask questions. XIV Sir John Maxton stayed to dinner. Beryl did not put in an appearance until just before eight. "Already, Beryl?" Dr. Merville scrambled up. His face was gray, his eyes sunken, the hands that took her by the shoulders shook. "My dear--I hope I have done right. I hope I have done right, my little girl." She tried to smile as she kissed him. "Can't I take you to Berkeley Square, Beryl?" asked Sir John. She shook her head. "No, thank you, John--goodbye." They stood together, bareheaded, on the pavement, and saw her go. A drizzle of rain was falling, the dull red furnace glow of London was in the sky. Together they walked back to the dining room and Maxton did not break in upon the doctor's thoughts. "Thank God she's gone," he whispered at last, "John, I'm at the end, I know it. Perhaps he'll help after--I'll be satisfied if he makes Beryl happy." "He could help now," said John Maxton. "Why do you deceive yourself? How can you hope for anything from Steppe? I wish to God I had known that this infernal marriage was for today." "She wished it," said the doctor, "I should not have insisted, but she wished it. Steppe isn't a bad fellow--"