Ronnie jumped up and dusted his trousers. Another second, and he was halfway across the room. "I'm so glad that I came, Ronnie: it wasn't that Christina insisted: I wanted to see you, dear." How pale, how ill she looked, he thought, with a sinking heart. She was going away somewhere, for she was dressed for travelling. "Beryl, my dear, you are not well?" "Oh, I'm well enough, Ronnie," she glanced back at the door. She expected that any moment Steppe would come--he would guess. There was a train to be caught too--the madness of this visit! He held both her hands in his. "Beryl, they tell me you are going to be married--that isn't right, Beryl, is it?" She nodded. "But Beryl--" he stopped. "I saw you once and I was cruel, wasn't I?" "What is the use of talking about it? Ronnie, I hope you are going to be a better man than you have been. I admire you so much for defending that poor girl. You are trying to be different now." "I think so." "And--I'm believing you, Ronnie. It is not easy to give up that life? Won't you want to go back to it again?" He smiled. "I will take away from thee the desire of thine eyes, with a stroke, yet neither shalt thou mourn nor weep." She looked at him fearfully. "Ronnie, how solemn you are--and you are so strong too--I feel it. Ronnie, I am married!" He bent his head as though he had not heard her. "I was married today to Steppe. Oh God, it is awful, Ronnie, awful!" He put his arm about her and kissed the tearful face, and then-- Crash! The door shook again. "I think that is your husband," said Ronnie gently, "will you go into my room?" He opened the door for her and said "yes" with his eyes to the alarmed François. Steppe flung himself into the room. In his great fur-collared coat he looked a giant of a man. "Well?" said Ronnie. "Where's my wife!" The man's voice vibrated. "You swine! Where is my wife--she's come here--I know, to her damned paramour. Where is she?" he bellowed. "She is in my room--" said Ronnie, and Jan Steppe staggered back as if he were shot. "In your room!" He sounded as if he were being strangled. "Well--now she can come to my room! You called me an ape this morning, I'll show you what kind of an ape I can be! Beryl!" he roared. She came out, a tragic figure of despair. "So you had to come and see him, eh--" François had opened the door again, and a man came in unannounced. "Steppe!" It was John Maxton, and Steppe turned with a snarl. "Merville has been arrested." "Well?" "My father! Arrested? Jan, I must go back--" "You'll go with me, huh! I haven't married your father or your lover, either." "What are you going to do?" demanded Maxton sternly. "Catch my train! You can't stop me--" "Steppe, for God's sake think what you're doing." Sir John Maxton was pleading now with a greater intensity than he had ever pleaded before a tribunal. "You could save Merville--you have the draft of the prospectus--"