He stood up before Tudor with the arrogance of a man who mocks defeat, but there was a gleam of desperation in his eyes--something of the cornered animal in his very nonchalance. A queer touch of pity moved Tudor from his attitude of cold informer. There was an undercurrent of something that was almost sympathy in his voice as he made reply. "The fellow was more or less drunk, but I am afraid he was rather circumstantial. He recognized in you a man who had killed some chum of his years ago, in Queensland." "Well?" said Piers. Just the one word, uttered like a command! Tudor's softer impulse passed. "He was bawling it out at the top of his voice. A good many people must have heard him. I was in this room with Lady Evesham. We heard also." "Well?" Piers said again. He spoke without stirring an eyelid, and again, involuntarily, Tudor was moved, this time with a species of unwilling admiration. The fellow was no coward at least. He went on steadily. "It was impossible not to hear what the beast said. He mentioned names also,--your name and the name of the man whom he alleged you had killed. Lady Evesham heard it. We both heard it." He paused. Piers had not moved. His face was like a mask in its composure, but it was a dreadful mask. Tudor had a feeling that it hid unutterable things. "What was the man's name?" Piers asked, after a moment. "Denys--Eric Denys." Piers nodded, as one verifying a piece of information. His next question came with hauteur and studied indifference. "Lady Evesham heard, you say? Did she pay any attention to these maudlin revelations?" "She fainted," said Tudor shortly. "Oh? And what happened then?" It was maddeningly cold-blooded; but it was the mask that spoke. Tudor recognized that. "I brought her round," he made answer. "No one else was present. She begged me to let her go home alone. I did so." "She also asked you to make full explanation to me?" came in measured tones from Piers. "She did." Tudor paused a moment as though he found some difficulty in forming his next words. But he went on almost at once with resolution. "She said to me at parting: 'I must be alone. I must think. Beg Piers to understand! Beg him not to see me again to-day! I will talk to him in the morning!' I promised to deliver the message exactly as she gave it." "Thank you," said Piers. He turned with the words, moved away to the window, and looked forth at the now deserted marquee. Tudor stood mutely waiting; he felt as if it had been laid upon him to wait. Suddenly Piers jerked his head round and glanced at the chair in which Avery had been sitting, then abruptly turned himself and looked at Tudor. "What were you--and my wife--doing in here?" he said. Tudor frowned impatiently at the question. "Oh, don't be a fool, Evesham!" he said with vehemence.