The paper had fallen from Peggy's hands. Five thousand pounds! Twice as much to-morrow, if necessary! Airey Newton! No other Newton, but Airey, Airey! The stranger had actually said 'Airey!' Her thoughts flew back to her talk with Airey--and, further back, to how Tommy Trent had made him give a dinner. And on that account she had quarrelled with Tommy! Everything fitted in now. The puzzle which had bewildered her in Danes Inn that very afternoon was solved. Perceiving the solution with merciless clearness, Peggy Ryle felt that she must cry. It was such hypocrisy, such meanness, nay, such treachery. 'I don't want to sail under false colours,' he had said, and used that seemingly honest speech and others like it to make his wretched secret more secure. Now the safe took its true place in the picture; a pretty bad place it was; she doubted not that the red book was in the unholy business too. And the bread-and-butter! Peggy must be pardoned her bitterness of spirit. To think of the unstinted gratitude, the tender sentiment, which she had lavished on that bread-and-butter! She had thought of it as of St. Martin's cloak or any other classical case of self-sacrificing charity. And--worse, if possible--she had eaten the dinner too, a dinner that came from a grudging hand. She had fled to Tommy Trent's to escape worry. Worse than worry was here. With rather more justification than young folks always possess, she felt herself in the presence of a tragedy; that there was any comedy about also was more likely to strike a looker-on from outside. 'Sorry to have kept you waiting, Peggy,' said Tommy cheerfully, coming in from the other room. 'I had a man on business, and Wilson didn't tell me you were here.' Peggy rose to her feet; a tear trickled down her cheek. 'Hullo! What's the matter? Are you in trouble?' 'I overheard you through the door.' 'What?' 'Just at the end you raised your voice.' 'And you listened?' Tommy was rather reproachful, but it did not yet seem to strike him what had happened. 'I heard what you said about Airey Newton.' Tommy gave a low whistle; a look of perplexity, not unmixed with amusement, spread over his face. 'The deuce you did!' he remarked slowly. 'That's what's the matter: that's why I'm nearly crying.' 'I don't see it in that light, but I'm sorry you heard. It's a secret that Airey----' 'A secret! Yes, I should think it was. Are you anything that I don't know of? I mean a burglar, or a swindler, or anything of that kind?' 'You do know that I'm a solicitor?' Tommy wanted to relieve the strain of the conversation. 'I meant to stay with you, and perhaps to take you out to dinner----' 'Well, why won't you? I haven't done anything--except forget that it's not wise to talk too loudly about my clients' business.' 'I'm just going to Danes Inn to see Airey Newton.' 'Oh!' Tommy nodded gravely. 'You think of doing that?' 'It's what I'm going to do directly. I've a hansom at the door.'