“You've got an expressive face, miss—always 'ad. Why, I can read you like a book. You're worryin' your pretty 'ead to know 'ow you came 'ere, isn't that it? Trust Simon Aird to understand what a girl's thinkin' about. A pretty girl's as plain as print to me—always was. But I'm keepin' you on tenterhooks, I see, an' that's not polite. I'll soon tell you. We found you up yonder on the headland, near the Blowhole, drunk and incapable. That was a dangerous thing to do, miss. I can't think 'ow you came to be doin' it. Lord! In that state, there's no knowin' what mightn't 'ave 'appened to you—it's dreadful just to think of it! But you fell into good 'ands, miss. We took you up an' lifted you into our car, which 'appened to be near by; and we brought you 'ere with as much care as if you'd been worth your weight in gold, miss. No pains spared, I assure you.” Through the numbness engendered by the anæsthetic, fear had been growing in Cressida's mind, until now it had overwhelmed every other feeling. She knew she was completely in the hands of these three men; and even what she had seen of them was enough to fill her with the acutest dread. Aird's oily phrases went ill with the expression in his little piggish eyes. “It's a great thing to be a bit of a psycho-what-d'ye-call-it, miss. I can tell to a dot just exactly what's passin' through your mind,” he went on. “You're wonderin' where you are at this minute. I 'ave much pleasure in enlightenin' you. You've 'ad the extraordinary good luck to be brought to the 'eadquarters of Aird & Co., a purely philanthropic syndikit formed for the good purpose of purifyin' morals, and rescuin' heiresses from the clutch of their fancy men, and teachin' them to lead saintly lives in future. Your case is the first we've 'ad brought to our door, so we can give it our excloosive attention. And we shall!” He sniggered, apparently much amused by his own conceit. Cressida felt the menace behind all this forced jocularity. Aird brought the candle nearer to her face, and made a pretence of studying her features. “Ah!” he continued. “You're feelin' nervous, miss? It's as plain as a pike-staff to the eye of the trained mind-reader like me. You're all of a flutter, like. And no wonder, miss. You that's been livin' in sin with that young Fleetwood for the best part of a year, with your own true husband alive and mournin' all the while. Shockin'! Such goin's on! But never fear, miss. You 'ave fallen into good 'ands, as I said once before. Aird & Co., expert matrimonial agents, will take up your case and make an honest woman of you yet.” Behind his jovality, Cressida could feel some dreadful menace. She turned her face away, so as to hide from herself his little gloating eyes. “That'll do, Aird,” said a fresh voice, quite unknown to her. “I'll explain things. You talk too much.”