“It’s the truth for all that,” returned Stenness, doggedly. “I’ve told you before that I see nothing wrong in what I’ve done—nothing morally wrong, I mean. He swindled me. I take my money back again. What’s wrong in that?” “I wish I had your simple way of looking at things.” Sir Clinton sat in silence for a few moments, evidently pondering over the case. “You’re a problem, Stenness,” he said at last. “I don’t really know what to do with you.” “Oh, arrest me!” Stenness exclaimed, bitterly. “Nothing matters now. She’s dead. It’s all over; and I don’t much care what happens.” “Pull yourself together, man,” said Sir Clinton, curtly. “That sort of chatter does all right on the stage. Nobody with a backbone takes a knock like that. If you wake up three years hence in a prison cell, you’ll look at things in a different light, and be very fed-up that you’ve lost your liberty as well as other things. Some things are inevitable. Others aren’t. Don’t behave like a child.” Stenness took the rebuke sullenly. “Well, what does it matter?” he demanded. “You have enough in your hands to convict me if you want to—and I don’t care. Do as you like. I’ll write it out for you now, if you think it’ll save you trouble. I’m not inclined to wriggle at the last moment.” Sir Clinton gave no sign that he had heard him. Instead, he seemed engrossed on some problem. At last he lifted his head. “I can’t follow that intricate conscience of yours, Stenness. It’s beyond me. But I can sympathise to some extent with your analogy of the pickpocket caught red-handed. That was very apt. I’m going to give you a chance. I know well enough that you’re speaking the truth about this business. Besides, I can get it checked if necessary. On the basis of ethics, I think you’ve some right to the money. You have it here in notes, I suppose?” “It’s upstairs.” “Very well. Bring it down. Put it in the safe. Seal it up in an envelope with your name on it before putting it away. I’ll see what’s to be done about it to-morrow. Now, do that at once. Don’t argue.” “The money means nothing much to me now,” said Stenness angrily. “Then hand it back to the people it legally belongs to,” Sir Clinton said coolly. “If you don’t want it, other people may have a use for it. It’s a fair test of all that high falutin’ stuff you laid off a minute or two ago.” Stenness made no reply, but rose and went towards the door. “Oh, just another thing, Stenness. Meet me at the front of the house here at . . . at. . . . Have you a time-table?” Stenness produced the ABC from a shelf and Sir Clinton turned over its pages before continuing. “The first train’s at 7.10 a.m.,” he said. “Meet me out at the house-door at half-past six sharp to-morrow morning. Now don’t fail!” Stenness was plainly bewildered, and in his astonishment he gave a grudging assent. “That’ll do, then,” Sir Clinton went on. “Just put that cash in the safe, now. And, by-the-bye, send Ardsley to me as you go out.”