He spent half an hour pacing up and down the veranda before Tony reappeared, and as it happened Harding came out from his room just then. The moon, which had risen higher now, flooded the veranda with silvery light. Harding glanced at the stranger and pointed to a cane chair, while Appleby, who was not sure whether he was glad or displeased to see him at the moment, introduced them. Tony, however, did not shake hands. “I had the pleasure of meeting your daughter in England, Mr. Harding, and it was only owing to that fact I managed to get here at all,” he said. “You have evidently a good many friends in this country.” “I am glad I have been of service,” said Harding, with a smile. “In the meanwhile I haven’t the slightest doubt that you and Appleby will excuse me.” Tony looked at him gravely. “I understood from Miss Harding that you had reposed a good deal of trust in Appleby and that he had taken you into his confidence respecting something which happened in England.” “You have surmised correctly,” said Harding. “Then I would sooner you sat down and listened to me. It is, I fancy, likely that he has not told you all the story. You are not altogether unconcerned in it, since your daughter was the means of sending me here.” Appleby made a little impatient gesture. “Tony,” he said sharply, “is it necessary?” “I believe it is”; and Tony leaned forward in his chair. “It would be a favor if you sat down, sir.” Harding did so, and for ten minutes Tony, who stared straight in front of him at the blue Bougainvillea on the moonlit wall, spoke with quiet conciseness, while Harding sat in the shadow watching him. At last he turned to Harding. “I think you will see that your confidence in the man I have injured was fully warranted, sir,” he said. “If I have made you understand that, it is, at least, a little in reparation. I can’t ask you to forgive, Bernard, but I want to straighten out what I can.” Harding for some reason moved uneasily in his chair, but Appleby, leaning across the table, held out his hand. “You can’t look past it now, Tony,” he said. “Can’t we still be friends?” Tony glanced at him, and made a curious little sound which resembled a groan, then a red flush crept into his face as he took Appleby’s hand. An unpleasant silence followed until Harding spoke. “I shall hope for your better acquaintance, Mr. Palliser,” he said. Tony looked at him in wonder. “You realize what I have done, sir?” Harding nodded gravely. “I have heard how you have tried to make it up,” he said. “Well, I guess I’ve seen and handled a good many men, and there’s more hope of those who trip up and get on their feet again than for quite a few of the others who have never fallen at all. Now, I’m glad you’ve told me, though, so far as my belief in Mr. Appleby goes, it was not by any means necessary.”