"_Christ! . . . And she knows?_" He stared, less at us than at the four walls about him. "She does not," said I: "or did not, until a few minutes ago." "But _you_ knew!"--Wrath again filled Farrell's sails. "_You_ knew-- and you allowed it. . . . And you call yourselves gentlemen, I suppose!" "If you take that tone with either of us for an instant longer," I answered, after a pause, "you shall be thrown out of that door, and your dog shall follow through the window. If you prefer to stand quite still and hold your tongue--will you?--why, then, you are welcome to the information that I only heard of this engagement less than an hour ago, and Mr. Collingwood less than ten minutes before you entered." "But you knew _that other thing_," Farrell insisted. "Yes, I knew," said I: "and for the simple reason that Dr. Foe told it all to me. And Mr. Collingwood knows, for I told it to him. We two have kept the secret." "And," sneered Farrell, "you still keep being his friends!" "No," I answered; "as a matter of fact, we do not. But you have taken that tone again with me in spite of my warning, and I shall now throw you downstairs. . . . You are an ill-used man, I believe, though not by me: and for that reason, if you come back--say at ten to-morrow morning--and apologise, you will find me sympathetic. But just now I am going to throw you out." "You may if you can," retorted Farrell, eyeing my advance warily. "I've spoilt this marrying, I guess: and that's the first long chalk crossed off a long tally." I was about to grip with him when Jimmy called sharply that there were to be no blows--Foe wanted to speak. Foe had recovered under the brandy and lay over on his side, facing us, panting a little from the dose--of which Jimmy had been liberal. "Have it out, Roddy," he gasped, "here and now. I'm strong enough to get it over, and--and he can't tell you any worse than you both know, of my free telling--and I don't want to trouble either of you again. Let him have it out," implored Foe, between his sharp intakes of breath. "I am glad you excepted _me_," burst out Farrell. "You'll trouble _me_ again fast enough: or, rather, I'll trouble _you_--to the end of your dirty life. Are you shamming sick, there, you Foe?" "You know that he is not," said Jimmy, holding back my arm. "Tell your story, and clear." "My story?" echoed Farrell in a bewildered way. "What's my story more than what you know, it seems? What's my story more than that, after sharing hell for days in an open boat, and solitude on that awful island, this man left me--choosing when I was sick and sorry: left me to hell and solitude together--left me to it, cold-blooded, when I was too weak to crawl--left me, in his cursed grudge, when he could have saved two as easy as one? Has he told you that, gentlemen?" "He told me quite faithfully," said I. "We--Mr. Collingwood and I-- both know it."