She shuddered. Explain everything! That was a task indeed. When the heart is young and life is a full and generous thing; in the days of romance, when adventures and love-making come as a natural heritage and form part of the order of things, then the words which the woman had to say would have come lightly enough from her lips, less perhaps as a confession than as a half apologetic narration. But in the days when youth lies far behind, when its glamour has faded away and nothing but the bare incidents remain, unbeautified by the full colouring and exuberance of the springtime of life, the most trifling indiscretions then stand out like idiotic crimes. Lady Deringham had been a proud woman--a proud woman all her life. She had borne in society the reputation of an almost ultra-exclusiveness; in her home life she had been something of an autocrat. Perhaps this was the most miserable moment of her life. Her son was looking at her with cold, inquiring eyes. She was on her defence before him. She bowed her head and spoke: "Tell me what you thought, Wolfenden." "Forgive me," he said, "I could only think that there was robbery, and that you, for some sufficient reason, I am sure, were aiding. I could not think anything else, could I?" "You thought what was true, Wolfenden," she whispered. "I was helping another man to rob your father! It was only a very trifling theft--a handful of notes from his work for a magazine article. But it was theft, and I was an accomplice!" There was a short silence. Her eyes, seeking steadfastly to read his face, could make nothing of it. "I will not ask you why," he said slowly. "You must have had very good reasons. But I want to tell you one thing. I am beginning to have grave doubts as to whether my father's state is really so bad as Dr. Whitlett thinks--whether, in short, his work is not after all really of some considerable value. There are several considerations which incline me to take this view." The suggestion visibly disturbed Lady Deringham. She moved in her chair uneasily. "You have heard what Mr. Blatherwick says," she objected. "I am sure that he is absolutely trustworthy." "There is no doubt about Blatherwick's honesty," he admitted, "but the Admiral himself says that he dare trust no one, and that for weeks he has given him no paper of importance to work upon simply for that reason. It has been growing upon me that we may have been mistaken all along, that very likely Miss Merton was paid to steal his work, and that it may possess for certain people, and for certain purposes, a real technical importance. How else can we account for the deliberate efforts which have been made to obtain possession of it?" "You have spent some time examining it yourself," she said in a low tone; "what was your own opinion?"