Precisely what it had been in Andy's mind to suggest--but not exactly by way of politeness! It was disconcerting to have the sting drawn from his thoughts or his talk in this way. "That might be polite to you--in one sense; it might sound rather unjust to Harry," he answered. "Am I the first person who has ever dared to make such an insinuation? How shocking! But I've even dared to do it to Mr. Harry himself, and he hardly denied that he was an incorrigible flirt." Andy knew that he was no match for her. For any advantage he could ever win from her, he must thank chance or surprise. "Don't be so terribly strict, Mr. Hayes. If you were engaged, would you like every word--absolutely every word--you said to another girl to be repeated to your _fiancée_?" Andy, always honest, considered. "Perhaps I shouldn't--and a few pretty speeches hurt nobody." "Why, really you're becoming quite human! You encourage me to confess that Mr. Harry has made one or two to me--and I've not repeated them to Vivien. I'm relieved to find you don't think me a terrible sinner." She was skilfully pressing for an indication of what he knew, of how much he had seen--without letting him, if he did know too much, have a chance of confronting her openly with his knowledge. Must he be considered in the game she was playing, or could he safely be neglected? Andy's temper was rather tried. She talked of a few idle words, a few pretty speeches--ordinary gallantries. His memory was of two figures tense with passion, and of a lover's kiss accepted as though by a willing lover. "How far would you carry the doctrine?" he asked dryly. There was a pause before she answered; she was shaping her reply so that it might produce the result she wanted--information, yet not confrontation with his possible knowledge. "As far as a respectful kiss?" Peering through the darkness, she saw a quick movement of Andy's head. Instantly she added with a laugh, "On the hand, I mean, of course!" "You won't ask me to go any further, if I admit that?" asked Andy. "No. I'll agree with you on that," she said. Mrs. Belfield suddenly woke up. "Yes, I'm sure Harry's looking pale," she remarked. Isobel had got her information; she was sure now. The sudden movement of Andy's head had been too startled, too outraged, to have been elicited merely by an audacious suggestion put forward in discussion; it spoke of memories roused; it expressed wonder at shameless effrontery. Andy had revealed his knowledge, but he did not know that he had. He had parted with his secret; yet it had become no easier for him to meddle. If he had thought himself bound to say nothing, not to interfere, before, he would seem to himself so bound still. And if he tried to meddle, at least she would be fighting now with her eyes open. There might be danger--there could be no surprise. When Harry Belfield put on her cloak for her in the hall, she whispered to him: "Take care of Andy Hayes! He did see us that first night."