In the silence that followed, Asshlin lifted his glass and emptied it slowly. "I don't know about that," he said as he set it down. "There are unwritten codes that all the free will in the world won't dispose of. One of them is that a gentleman who wins at cards cannot refuse his opponent the satisfaction of his revenge. But perhaps the etiquette has changed since my time." His manner was still controlled, but his eyes glittered. Milbanke cleared his throat. "My dear Asshlin," he said, "we are surely friends of too long standing to split hairs in this fashion. What is this revenge that you talk of? Nothing--a myth--an imaginary justification of honour." A quick sound of contempt escaped Asshlin. "And what is every code and every sentiment in the world but an outcome of imagination?" he cried. "What is it but imagination that herds us off from the beasts? I'm satisfied to call it imagination. It tells me that I was worsted last night, and that I'm capable of better things if I try my luck again. I'm satisfied to follow its promptings--and demand my revenge!" For a while Milbanke sat miserable and undecided; then under the goad of the other's eyes, he did an ill-judged thing. Fumbling nervously for his letter-case, he rose from his seat and walked across to the fireplace. "There is nothing for you to revenge," he said agitatedly. "There was no play last night. It's cancelled. I cancel it." With tremulous haste, he pulled out the letter-case, extricated Asshlin's cheque, and dropped it into the fire. There was a pause--a pause of tremendous moment--in which he stood aghast at his own deed. Then Asshlin turned on him, his face purple and convulsed with rage. "You dare to insult me? You dare to insult me in my own house? You dare to imply that it was the money--the damned money, that I wanted to win back?" Milbanke looked up sharply. "Good God, no!" he exclaimed with unwonted vehemence. "Such a thought never entered my mind." "Then what's the meaning of all this? What is it all driving at?" Asshlin's hard, handsome face was contorted by passion and his hands shook. "Nothing. It's driving at nothing. It is simply that I do not wish to play." "And why not?" He suddenly rose, his great body towering above the other's. "Why not? By God, I'll have an answer!" "There is no answer." "No answer? We'll see about that. Who's been lying to you about me? Who's been carrying scandals about me? Out with it!--out with it!" Then unexpectedly Milbanke's trepidation forsook him. He suddenly straightened himself. "No one," he answered. "No one? Are you quite sure?" "No-one!" "Then what do you mean by this? What do you mean by meddling in my affairs?" He took a menacing step forward. [Illustration: With a fierce gesture he took another step forward.] Milbanke stood firm. "I have my reasons," he said quietly. "Your reasons, have you?" Asshlin laughed harshly. "Then I'll have my answer. What do you mean by it?"