"Open? Am I not open?" he evaded, as stupidly as a guilty child facing indisputable proof. "What--what is wrong now? Haven't I told you all that I know about it? You ought not to--to expect me to be in a natural, normal state of mind after a thing like this has happened. Surely you see that it was all due to me--I mean that but for me the directors would not have allowed Charlie to be about the bank after he became so dissipated. As it is--as it is, I have agreed to repay the missing money. It will almost bankrupt me, but I shall do it some way or other." "You did not know it before you got his note at breakfast?" Celeste asked. "No, not till then. It was like a bolt from a clear sky," said William, slightly more at ease. "I don't believe it--I don't believe a word of that," Celeste said, firmly. "You don't? You think I am lying, then?" William gasped. "My God! that you should say that to me!" "I don't believe it," Celeste repeated. "I don't, because this morning when you came down you were very dejected. I have never seen you look so much so. It lasted till you read Charles's note. Then your face fairly blazed with relief. If Charles told you for the first time in that note that he was a thief, you could not have looked like that. You say you are all upset now over it. Why were you not then?" "I was--I was, but I tried to hide it from you," was the slow answer. "I know you did, in a way, but you did not assume that first look of joy and relief. I see that you are bent on keeping me in the dark. I see a reason for it, but I won't mention it now. When you feel like putting complete confidence in your wife, let me know. This is our first misunderstanding, but it is a serious one."