He coloured darkly. It was incredible to him that Anne could be goading him to support her friend's fabric of lies by another lie. He would not do it, come what might. But he felt that Fate was hard on him. He would have done almost anything at that moment to please her. But a lie--no. "I fear your line would naturally be to tell the blackest lie that has ever been told yet, by repeating the damaging facts exactly as they are. If you do--to a man like him--not only will you help to ruin Miss Black, but you will give weight to this frightful falsehood which is being circulated against her. And if you, by your near-sighted truthfulness, give weight to a lie, it is just the same as telling one. No, I think it's worse." Stephen smiled grimly. This was straight talk. Plain speaking always appealed to him even when, as now, it was at his expense. "Are you certain that your friend did not burn her brother's I O U?" he said after a pause. "I am absolutely certain. Remember her face. Now, Mr Vanbrunt, think. Don't confuse your mind with ideas of what women generally are. Think of her. Are not you certain too?" "Yes," he said slowly, "I am. She is concealing something. She has done some folly, and is bolstering it up by a stupid lie. But the other, that's swindling--no, she did not do that." "Then help the side of truth," said Anne. "My own conviction is that she burned something compromising Mrs Brand, at Mrs Brand's dying request, under an oath of secrecy. And that is why her mouth is shut. But this is only a supposition. I ask you not to repeat it. I only mention it because you are so----" she shot a glance at him unlike any, in its gentle raillery, that had fallen to his lot for many a long day--"so stubborn." He was unreasonably pleased. "I should still be in a dry goods warehouse in Hull if I had not been what you call stubborn," he said, smiling at her. "May I ask you a small favour for myself?" she said. "So far I have only asked for my friend." "It seems hardly necessary to ask it. Only mention it." "If my mother talks to you, and she talks to you a great deal, do not mention to her our--our conversation of last night. It would be kinder to me." Stephen bowed gravely. He was surprised. It had not struck him that Anne had not told her mother. A brand-new idea occurred to him, namely that Anne and her mother were not in each other's confidence. H'm! That luminous idea required further thought. "And now," said Anne, "having got out of you all I want, I will immediately desert you for my other neighbour." And she spoke no more to Stephen that night. * * * * * "My dear," said the Duke of Quorn to Anne as they drove home, "it appeared to me that you and Vanbrunt were on uncommonly good terms to-night. Is there any understanding between you?" "I think he is beginning to have a kind of glimmering of one."