"I tell you what it is, Masters," he said, looking hard at the fire so that Clive might not feel himself stared at, "your cousin has said something to your mother and sisters which has made them very uneasy about you. If he'd said more, it mightn't have been so bad for them, but they know so little that they are fretting their lives out," pursued Ibbetson with a bold disregard for the truth which should certainly have been limited here by the third person singular. "I dare say you think I've no business to come poking my fingers into what doesn't concern me, indeed to tell you the truth I'm of the same opinion myself. But I'm here because a friend of theirs for whom I've a regard is under the impression they've got an exaggerated idea of what is amiss, and thinks you might put things straighter. There! and I hope I've not made a bungle of it," he continued mentally, feeling as if the pause which followed lasted five minutes at the very least. "I don't see what Oliver can have said," said the young fellow a little sullenly. "I've followed his advice pretty closely." "Well," Jack said slowly, "I suppose you'd hardly be disposed to take an outside opinion?" "Yours, you mean?" His manner was not very pleasant, but Jack acknowledged that it was scarcely to be expected it should be different, and so far he had been unable to trace any symptom of fear as of one who held a guilty secret. He began to have a stronger conviction of his innocence himself. "Yes, I meant mine. One moment--I mean, of course, only on their account." "Oliver is all the world with them," said Clive uneasily, "at least if one may trust half the messages he brings back." "Why on earth don't you write direct instead of trusting to messages?" "Direct? Why of course I do," said Clive staring blankly. "Well, openly then. Telling them of any--difficulties you may be in." "I can't see the good of worrying them about all the particulars when one has made a fool of oneself, but they know the outcome of it." Clive said this frankly and without hesitation. Jack became more and more doubtful how he was to go on. Even if you believe a fellow-man, you may be offering him the worst insult in your power by telling him so. "They fancy they don't know, at any rate," he said rather lamely. "Not know! Why, haven't they had Oliver out there? There was nothing to prevent their getting it all out of him. In fact, he told me he had explained everything." "He certainly left them with the impression that there were circumstances you didn't wish made known." The young man started to his feet and flushed angrily red. "I?" "Yes." "There is nothing whatever. Nothing to conceal from them," he added in a lower tone. "Then a false impression has undoubtedly been given, and I advise you to set it right. By the way, when Miss Capponi wrote to ask the question, why didn't you explain?" "Bice has never asked anything of the sort?" said Clive angrily, and yet uneasily.