Sir Jacques came quickly forward. "Come, come!" he said sharply, and taking her by the arm he shook her violently. "This won't do at all----" he gave a warning look at the other man. "Of course Miss Rose will do exactly what she wishes to do! She's quite right in saying that she's as good as married to him already, Sir John. And it's our business--yours, hers, and mine--to think of Jervis, and of Jervis only just now. But she won't be able to do that if she allows herself to be upset!" "I'm so sorry--please forgive me!" Rose, to her own measureless relief, had stopped laughing, but she felt oddly faint and queer. Sir Jacques poured out a very small wineglassful of brandy, and made her drink it. How odd to have a bottle of brandy here, in Mr. Robey's study! Mr. Robey was a teetotaller. "Would you like me to go up to Jervis now?" asked Sir John slowly. Sir Jacques looked into the speaker's face. It was generally a clear, healthy tan colour; now it had gone quite grey. "No," he said. "Not now. If you will forgive me for making a suggestion, I should advise that you and Miss Rose take Lady Blake out somewhere for an hour's walk. There's nothing like open air and a high road for calming the nerves." "I would rather not see my wife just now," muttered Sir John frowning. But Sir Jacques answered sternly, "I'm afraid I must ask you to do so; and once you've got her out of doors for an hour, I'll give her a sleeping draught. She'll be all right to-morrow morning. I don't want any tears round my patient." It was Rose Otway who led Sir John Blake by the hand down the passage. The dreadful sounds coming from Mrs. Robey's sitting-room had died down a little, but they still pierced one listener's heart. "Do be kind to her," whispered the girl. "Think what she must be going through. She was so happy about him this morning----" "Yes, yes! You're quite right," he said hastily. "I've been a brute--I know that. I promise you to do my best. And Rose?" "Yes," she said. "What that man said is right--quite right. What we've got to do now is to start the boy on the right way--nothing else matters." She nodded. "You and I can do it." "Yes, I know we can--and will," said Rose; and then she opened the door of Mrs. Robey's sitting-room. At the sight of her husband, Lady Blake's sobs died down in long, convulsive sighs. "Come, my dear," he said, in rather cold, measured tones. "This will not do. You must try for our boy's sake to pull yourself together. After all, it might have been much worse. He might have been killed." "I would much rather he had been killed," she exclaimed vehemently. "Oh, John, you don't know, you don't understand, what this will mean to him!" "Don't I?" he asked. He set his teeth. And then, "You're acting very wrongly!" he said sternly. "We've got to face this thing out. Remember what Sir Jacques said to you." He waited a moment, then, in a gentler, kinder tone, "Rose and I are going out for a walk, and we want you to come too."