'I see. You are a person who stickles for your hours--you won't do anything extra for me.' There was a sneer in his tone. Elizabeth felt her cheeks suddenly burn. In the dim light she looked amazingly tall, as she stood straightened to her full height, confronting this man who really seemed to her to be only half sane. 'I think I have done a great deal for you, Mr. Mannering. But if you don't think so we had better end my engagement!' His countenance changed at once. He eagerly apologized. He was perfectly aware of her extraordinary merits, and should be entirely lost without her help. The fact was he had had a painful scene, and was overdone. Elizabeth received his explanation very coldly, only repeating, 'May I go to bed?' The Squire drew his hand across his eyes. 'It is not very late--not yet eleven.' He pointed to the grandfather clock opposite. 'If you will only wait while I write something?'--he pointed to a chair. 'Just take a book there, and give me a quarter of an hour, no more--I want your signature, that's all. We won't look any further for the will. I can do all I want by a fresh document. I have been thinking it over, and can write it in ten minutes. I know as much about it as the lawyers--more. Now do oblige me. I am ashamed of my discourtesy. I need not say that I regard you as indispensable--and--I think I have been able to do something for your Greek.' He smiled--a smile that was like a foam-flake on a stormy sea. But he could put on the grand manner when he chose, and Elizabeth was to some extent propitiated. After all he and his ways were no longer strange to her. Very unwillingly she seated herself again, and he went rapidly to his writing-table. Then silence fell, except for the scratching of the Squire's pen. Elizabeth sat pretending to read, but in truth becoming every moment the prey of increasing disquiet. What was he going to ask her to sign? She knew nothing of his threat to his eldest son--nothing, that is, clear or direct, either from himself or from the others; but she guessed a good deal. It was impossible to live even for a few weeks in close contact with the Squire without guessing at most things. In the silence she became aware of the soft autumn wind--October had just begun--playing with a blind on a distant window. And through the window came another sound--Desmond and Pamela, no doubt, still laughing and talking in the schoolroom. The Squire rose from his seat. 'I shall be much obliged,' he said formally, 'if you will kindly come here. We shall want another witness, of course. I will call Forest.' Elizabeth approached, but paused a yard or two from him. He saw her in the light--her gold hair and brilliant dress illuminated against the dark and splendid background of the Nikê in shadow. She spoke with hesitation. 'I confess I should like to know, Mr. Mannering, what it is you are asking me to sign.' 'That doesn't matter to a witness. It is nothing which will in any way compromise you.'