"How am I to judge? You may have quarrelled and turned on him in revenge. Judged by your conduct here, I'm sure you're capable of anything. Or you may have thought you saw a way to win greater profit by aiding my brother." "That's all nonsense," Sally retorted hotly, "and you know it." If dismissal from Gosnold House were inevitable, then there was no reason why she should not call her soul her own. A pause was filled by the dramatic effect of Mrs. Standish nobly holding her temper in leash. "When are you going to answer my question?" Sally was dumb. "Was it--that man you went out there to meet--" "I didn't go to meet anybody. It was an accident." "So _you_ say. Was it some one of the guests here?" Silence was all the answer. "If you persist in your present attitude, remembering your dubious history, I have every right to take it for granted you went to meet an accomplice in crime--" "Oh, rot!" Sally interjected impatiently. And then, encouraged by consciousness of her audacity, she let her temper run away with her for an instant. "All that's no good," she declared forcibly, "and you know it. If you mean to speak to Mrs. Gosnold about me in the morning, and have me sent away merely because I've had an unpleasant experience and refuse to discuss it with you--when it's none of your affair--why, I can't stop you. But I'm not a child, to be bullied and browbeaten, and I'm certainly not going to humour your curiosity about my private business. And that's flat. Now run and tell, if you really must--but you won't." "Oh-indeed?" Mrs. Standish rose with vast dignity. "And why won't I, if you please?" "Because you won't dare risk that insurance money, for one thing--" "So you think you can blackmail--" "Call it anything you like," Sally flashed defiantly. "Only bear in mind, I'm not going to submit tamely and be sent away in disgrace, like a kitchen-maid. I'll go, right enough--you don't need to worry about that--but I'll go on my own excuse. If you tell on me, I'll tell on you, and I'll tell everything I know, too." "And what, please," the woman purred dangerously, "do you think you know--?" "What about your signalling that yacht just now?" It was shot at a venture; she had no real knowledge that the lighted window had been that of Mrs. Standish's bedroom; but it was just possible, and she chanced it, and it told, though she was not yet to know that with any certainty. "What are you talking about?" Mrs. Standish hesitated with a hand on the door-knob. "You know well enough. I saw what I saw. People don't do things like that unless there's something secret about it, something they don't want known." "I think you must be out of your head," the woman responded with crushing hauteur. "I haven't the slightest notion what you mean, and you needn't trouble to enlighten me. I don't in the least care. But you may sleep on this--that your insolence shall be properly rewarded as soon as I can see my aunt in the morning. Good night."