Poor Quinney! He had only to speak with entire frankness to win his Susan back. But at what a cost! Could he roll in the dust of a humiliating confession? Unconsciously he clenched his fists, setting his firm jaw at an even more aggressive angle. In desperation he clutched at a straw. If he must be dragged down from his high estate as the honestest dealer in the world, let that iconoclastic deed be done by another hand. "Look ye here, my girl, suppose you ask James that question." "I want to ask him," she replied calmly. "Fine!" muttered Tomlin. "Yes, my dear, you ask him why he dares to threaten your dear father." "And you," said Posy. "That’s right. And me. More than one good tip he’s had from me." "Tips? Why should you tip him?" "You can ask him. There’s no time to waste." "No time to waste?" The situation had become tenser. Quinney perceived with a certain pride that Posy was demonstrating the quality of brains inherited from him. "Go to him," said Quinney. "He’s in his room. We’ll wait here." She obeyed. *II* As soon as James saw Posy coming alone to him, he leapt triumphantly to the conclusion that her father had hauled down his flag. With a joyous exclamation he hastened to embrace her, but she turned a cool cheek to ardent lips. "Father sent me to you, Jim." "I knew he’d climb down!" "But he hasn’t. Jim, dear, what do you mean by threatening father and—and Mr. Tomlin?" The eager smile faded out of his face. He remained silent, marshalling his wits. "Have you received tips from Mr. Tomlin?" "He’s paid me for work done." "What sort of work?" "Restoring old bits of stuff. What has that got to do with us?" She followed her thoughts, not his questions. "And why is there all this hurry? Mr. Tomlin said just now that there was no time to waste." "He’s right; there isn’t!" "But why?" Her voice was gently insistent. She laid her hand softly upon the sleeve of his coat, as if entreating him to trust her, as she trusted him. "It’s like this, Posy. I told you last night that I could deal with your father, that the right moment had come to deal with him. Now, give me a free hand!" "Mr. Tomlin spoke, not very clearly, about your being able to ruin father and him. Father denies that!" "Does he?" Posy grew nervous, the colour ebbed from her cheeks; into her eyes flitted a shadow of fear. Her sharp wits were at work adding and subtracting, fitting together this jig-saw puzzle. At this moment, her memory answered oddly to the strain imposed upon it. In this room, before the _coup de foudre_, her father had spoken roughly to her, ordering her out of it with a peremptoriness apparently quite unjustifiable, because she was on an errand connected with his business. This tiny fact had rankled. James had asked her for a bottle of cleaning fluid.