"Well--you see, I'm a girl--a woman. It doesn't seem caddish to me, as it may to a man. But, Jack, it's to _save_ me! It's the one hope to make life worth living--or to know the worst and not wear out my soul in suspense. I can't bear suspense." "Neither can I," Jack reminded her. He was sitting beside her on the sofa now, and Juliet seized his hands. "The thing is--I want you to get acquainted with Lyda Pavoya," she ventured at last. "To contrive to be her _friend_, to win her confidence even if you must make love to her. Stop at nothing, until she's told you the whole secret of the pearls. That secret means everything to me. Wrapped up in it is the secret I care so much more for, the secret of Pat's love--whether it's hers or mine. And his honour is bound up with it, too. Will you do this for me, Jack? Or is it too much?" Never had Jack Manners thought that he could pull his hands away from Juliet's clinging fingers, and push her off almost roughly, as she would have held him. But now he did both, before he had realized what he was doing. And he even felt a hot resentment against her, not unlike repulsion: Juliet, whom he had worshipped for years--Juliet, for whom his life would have been a small gift! Before he quite knew what had happened to him, he was standing at the window, staring out. He had not answered, had spoken no word. She ought to understand that no answer was the one safe answer a man could give ... "Caddish!" ... She had wondered if he would "think it caddish!" Perhaps women _were_ cads--just naturally. He had heard it said that they didn't know the difference. But _Juliet_! Standing there with his back to her, he began to gather his wits together to face her attack. She would reproach him with violence. He would try not to be harsh, because she wasn't herself, of course. He would explain that what she asked wasn't "too much"; it wasn't a question of quantity but quality. There were some things a man couldn't do.... But she wasn't reproaching him. She was crying. God! he had never heard a woman cry as that girl was crying! Such sobs would tear her soul to pieces. They mustn't go on. They would kill her--and him! He went back to her. He knelt on the floor, and drew into his arms the shaken figure, abandoned among the cushions. "Don't, don't, my dear--my sweet one!" he implored, awkwardly smoothing the ruffled gold of her hair. "Trust old Jack! I'll do something. I'll find out for you. I don't know how. Goodness knows how! But I'll worm her secret from that Pavoya girl!" CHAPTER XII "THE 'WHISPERER' STUFF" "My goodness _gracious_!" gasped Natalie Lowndes. "_Billy_--wake up! Have you seen 'the Whisperer stuff'?" Billy woke up. It was just after dinner, early yet to begin the real evening at the Grumblers (known to some outsiders as the "Plunderers") Club; and Lowndes had been killing time with a nap.