“There’s nothing to be said, Miss Davison, nothing, that is to say, that I could listen to or believe. You must really excuse me. It’s with the men of the family that I have to deal. Or at least with the fellow Denver. But I suppose it’s six of one and half a dozen of the other, and that while one cheats at poker, the other does at bridge!” Under the influence of the lady’s gentle talk, Sir William had grown, not only too coherent, but so definite and precise in his accusations, so sweeping in his charges, that every ear was strained to catch what he said, and Denver, lounging on the sofa, grew perceptibly redder as he was forced to listen too. But Miss Davison, determined to end this painful scene in her own way, took the young baronet’s arm, almost as if she had been taking him into custody, and insisted on his leading her--or more properly being led by her--into the adjoining room, where Mrs. Van Santen, still the picture of woe, was sitting in her high-backed chair, and receiving the condolences of one or two of the ladies, while the others went into the music-room, with the exception of Lady Sylvia, who, much disgusted at the scene she had been forced to witness, had ordered her car round and taken her departure. “Say something nice to the old lady, do, Sir William,” pleaded Rachel coaxingly in his ear. “How can I say anything nice to her, when I know her son is a card--” Miss Davison would not let him finish. “You know nothing certainly,” she broke in quickly. “You suspect, but that’s not enough. Do pray remember what you owe to all of us, and whatever you may think or fancy, keep your suspicions to yourself until you can talk things over quietly with another man.” “But I’m certain--” began he again. “Well, tell what you think to--to--let me see--Mr. Buckland and Mr. Aldington. They saw everything. Let them judge.” “Excuse me, they saw nothing,” persisted Sir William, who was now speaking more quietly, but who was not in the least disposed to waver in his statement as to what he had seen. “I don’t think they were even in the room till the row had begun.” She was leading him gently across the middle room, deeming it more prudent not to let him speak to Mrs. Van Santen in his obvious state of irritation. She made him take her, therefore, into the music-room, where Cora and Arthur were conversing near the piano, and where two or three other small knots of people were discussing the distressing affair in low voices. Gerard was sitting by himself not far from the piano, and Delia had come in to do her usual work of smoothing things over in any direction where she saw that her services would be useful. Miss Davison made straight for Gerard.