The masterly woman continued. She indicated the rooted figure in the middle of the room, the collapsed heap upon the sofa's edge. “Those two entered. He had a basket. Oh, what were my feelings when out of it he took our darling Rose!” For the space of two minutes the masterly woman advertised the emotions she had suffered by burying her face in the Rose's coat; rocking gently. Emerging, she gulped her agitation; proceeded. “I need not repeat again all the dreadful story I heard, Mr. Marrapit? Surely I need not?” “You need not,” Mr. Marrapit told her. “You need not.” With a masterly half-smile, expressive of gratitude through great suffering, Mrs. Major thanked him. “Indeed,” she went on, “I did not hear the whole of it. It was so dreadful, I was so horrified, that I think I fainted. Yes, I fainted. But I heard them discuss how he had stolen the Rose so they might marry on the reward when it was big enough. He had kept the darling till then; now it was her turn to take charge of it--” Mrs. Major ceased with a jerk, drew in her legs preparatory to flight. For the rooted figure had sprung alarmingly to life. George would not have his darling Mary blackened. He took a stride to Mrs. Major; his pose threatened her. “That's untrue!” he thundered. “Ho!” exclaimed Mrs. Major. “Ho! A liar to my face! Ho!” “And you are a liar,” George stormed, “when you say--” “Silence!” commanded Mr. Marrapit. “Do not anger heaven yet further. Can you still deny--?” “No!” George said very loudly. “No! No! I deny nothing. But that woman's a liar when she says Miss Humfray discussed the business with me, or that it was Miss Humfray's turn to take the damned cat. Miss Humfray knew nothing about it till I told her. When she heard she said it was wrong and tried to make me take the cat back to you.” In his wrath George had advanced close to Mrs. Major. He stretched a violent finger to an inch from her nose. “That's true, isn't it? Have the grace to admit that.” Indomitable of purpose, the masterly woman pressed back her head as far as the chair would allow, tightened her lips. The violent finger followed. “Say it's true!” George boiled. His Mary implored: “Oh, George, don't, don't!” The furious young man flamed on to her. “Be quiet!” Mr. Marrapit began a sound. The furious young man flamed to him: “You be quiet, too!” He thrust the dreadful finger at Mrs. Major. “Now speak the truth. Had Miss Humfray anything to do with it?” This tremendous George had temporary command of the room. The masterly woman for once quailed. “I didn't hear that part,” she said. George drew in the fearful finger. “That's as good as the truth--from you.” He rounded upon Mr. Marrapit. “You understand that. This has been my show.” “A blackguard show,” pronounced Mr. Marrapit. “A monstrous and an impious show. A--” “I don't want to hear that. Whatever it is you are the cause of it. If you had done your duty with my mother's money--”