"But you're still hankering after him; is that it?" sneered Hunt-Goring. "Well, then, listen to me! I hold that man's future in my hands. I can ruin him utterly or--I can forbear. I'm not over-fond of him, as you know. I should rather like to see him ruined, though it would give me some little trouble to do it. What say you? I am the gladiator in the arena. I shall slay or spare--at your word alone." Again his eyes overwhelmed her, so that she could not meet them. A great shiver went through her. She began to pant a little. "I--don't understand," she said. "You know nothing--but gossip. You--you can prove nothing." "Can I not?" said Hunt-Goring. "You haven't a very high opinion of my intelligence, have you? Colonel Campion--I believe you know him--is scarcely the man to sit still when such gossip as that reaches his ears. As for the proofs, I know how to find them. The worthy Mrs. Briggs was on the spot, you may remember. Her evidence would be valuable. And there are other well-known means which I needn't go into now. But I assure you the circumstances themselves, properly handled, are sufficiently suspicious. You would not care to see your friend Max on his trial for murder, I presume?" She shivered again, shivered from head to foot. She did not utter a word. "No, I thought not," said Hunt-Goring, after a moment. "It would be especially painful for you, as your evidence also would be required. You see the position quite clearly, don't you? Come, hadn't you better give in now--and save further trouble?" She was silent still. Only her breath came fast--as the breath of one who nears exhaustion. Hunt-Goring waited a little, watching her white face. "Come!" he said, "I don't want to play the villain any longer. Can't you give me something better to do? I always dance to your piping." She spoke at last, forcing her trembling lips to utterance; after repeated effort. "Go--please!" she said. "Go?" said Hunt-Goring. "Yes! go!" She raised her eyes for an instant, piteously entreating, to his. "I--can't talk to you now,--can't--think even. I--will see you again--later." "When?" he said. Her breast was rising and falling. She could not for several seconds answer him. Then: "At the ball--on Thursday," she whispered. "You will give me my answer then?" he said. "Yes." He smiled--a cruel smile. "After due consultation with Nick, I suppose? No, my dear. I think not. We'll keep this thing a secret for the present--and I'll have my answer now." "I can't answer you now!" She flung the words wildly, and rose up between his hands with desperate strength. "I can't--I can't!" she cried. "You must give me--a little time. I shan't consult--Nick or anyone. I only want--to think--by myself." "Really?" said Hunt-Goring. "Yes, really." She set her hands against his breast, holding him from her, yet beseeching him. "Oh, you can't refuse me this!" she urged. "It's--too small a thing. I've got to find out if--if--if I can possibly do it."