“Then,” said Nettie, “I will try, though it isn’t exactly a pleasant story. There was a man in England who involved himself with a girl whom, because of your notions in this country, he could not marry. It was only a flirtation, but the girl’s father made the most of it, and raised trouble for the man when he wanted to marry a woman of his own degree. He had done nothing wrong as yet, but he was weak—so he sent his friend to bluff off the man who had been squeezing money out of him.” Tony made a little abrupt movement, and a tinge of gray showed in his cheek, but it passed unnoticed by all save Nettie Harding. The vicar was watching her with a curious intentness, and there was apprehension in Violet’s face, while Hester gazed steadily at Nettie with growing astonishment. “It was at night the friend met the blackmailer,” she said. “There was an altercation, and then a struggle. Still, the blackmailer was not seriously hurt, and the other man saw him walk away. It was not until next day they found he had fallen into a river from the bridge.” She stopped a moment, and Violet turned to her, very white in face, with a great horror in her eyes. “You venture to tell me this?” she said. “Yes,” said Nettie, glancing at Tony. “It hurts me, but it’s necessary. If you do not believe me ask the man who sent his friend to meet the man he dared not face.” There was a sound that suggested a gasp, and a dress rustled softly as Violet, moving a little, closed one hand, while Tony’s face showed gray and drawn as he leaned forward in his chair. It was, however, the vicar who broke the tense silence. “Since you have told us so much, Miss Harding, I must ask you to go on,” he said. “Then,” said Nettie, “the friend gave up everything, and took the blame that his comrade might marry the woman he loved, He went to America—and when he comes back there from Cuba we will find room for him.” “I think,” said the vicar very slowly, “in order to make quite sure one of us should ask you for his name.” Nettie glanced at Violet, who made a little sign. “It was Bernard Appleby,” she said. Then Violet turned to Tony, and her voice, which was low and strained, sent a little thrill through the listeners. “Speak!” she said. “Tony, you can, you must, controvert it!” Tony rose very slowly to his feet, and the courage of desperation was his. “I can’t. Miss Harding is quite correct,” he said. “I must ask the rest to leave us. This affair is ours—mine and Violet’s only, you see.” “He is right,” said the vicar, rising. “I will ask you to let the story go no further in the meanwhile, Miss Harding. There is, I think, only one thing Mr. Palliser can do, but the responsibility is his.” The others went away with him, and for a moment or two Violet and Tony stood face to face. Then when the man would have spoken the girl turned from him with a little gesture of repulsion. “No,” she said faintly. “It is too horrible. I can bear nothing further now.”