No one else spoke till slowly, with the gesture of an old and stricken woman, Stella turned away. "I must think," she said, in the same curious vibrating whisper, as though she held converse with herself. "I must--think." No one attempted to detain her. It was as though an invisible barrier cut her off from all but Peter. He followed her closely, forgetful of his wound, forgetful of everything but her pressing need. With dumb devotion he went after her, and they vanished beyond the flicker of the bobbing lanterns. Of the three men left, none moved or spoke for several difficult seconds. Finally Bernard, with an abrupt gesture that seemed to express exasperation, turned sharply on his heel and without a word re-entered the room in which he had left Tessa asleep, and fastened the window behind him. He left the tangle of beard on the matting, and Scooter stopped and nosed it sensitively till Everard stooped and picked it up. "That show being over," he remarked drily, "perhaps I may be allowed to attend to business without further interference." Tommy gave a great start and crunched some splinters of the shattered glass under his heel. He looked at Everard with an odd, challenging light in his eyes. "If you ask me," he said bluntly, "I should say your business here is more urgent than your business in the bazaar." Everard raised his brows interrogatively, and as if he had asked a question Tommy made sternly resolute response. "I've got to have a talk with you. Shall I come into your room?" Just for a second the elder man paused; then: "Are you sure that is the wisest thing you can do?" he said. "It's what I'm going to do," said Tommy firmly. "All right." Everard stooped again, picked up the inquiring Scooter, and dropped him into the box in which he had spent the evening. Then without more words, he turned along the verandah and led the way to his own room. Tommy came close behind. He was trembling a little but his agitation only seemed to make him more determined. He paused a moment as he entered the room behind Everard to shut the window; then valiantly tackled the hardest task that had ever come his way. "Look here!" he said. "You must see that this thing can't be left where it is." Everard threw off the garment that encumbered him and gravely faced his young brother-in-law. "Yes, I do see that," he said. "I seem to have exhausted my credit all round. It's decent of you, Tommy, to have been as forbearing as you have. Now what is it you want to know?" Tommy confronted him uncompromisingly. "I want to know the truth, that's all," he said. "Can't you stop this dust-throwing business and be straight with me?" His tone was stubborn, his attitude almost hostile. Yet beneath it all there ran a vein of something that was very like entreaty. And Everard, steadily watching him, smiled--the faint grim smile of the fighter who sees a gap in his enemy's defences.