"I think so," Lisle informed him. "But we'll let that slide. You'd better take the thing for granted. I'm not here to answer questions. I've told you plainly what I want." There was silence for nearly a minute during which Gladwyne sat very still in nerveless dismay. All resistance had melted out of him, his weakness was manifest--he could not face a crisis, there was no courage in him. "The miserable young idiot!" he broke out at length in impotent rage. "This is not the first trouble in which he has involved me!" "Just so," said Lisle. "Not long ago his sister came here, begging you to save him, and you wouldn't. It's not my part to point what she must think of you. But I'm in a different position; you won't refuse me." Gladwyne leaned forward, gripping the arms of his chair as if he needed support, and his face grew haggard. "The difficulty is that I'm helpless," he declared. Lisle regarded him with contempt. "Brace up," he advised him. "The fellow you're afraid of is only flesh and blood; he has his weak point somewhere. Face him and find it, if you can't talk him round. There's no other way open to you." A brief silence followed; and then Gladwyne broke it. "I'll try. But suppose I can induce him to leave Crestwick alone?" "So much the better for you," Lisle answered with a dry smile. "I'm not here to make a bargain. I don't want anything for myself." He went out, consoling himself with the last reflection, for the part he had played had been singularly disagreeable. Passing down the wide staircase and through the great hall, he turned along the terrace with a sense of wonder and disgust. It was a stately house; the wide sweep of lawn where two gardeners were carefully sweeping up the leaves, the borders beyond it, blazing with dahlias and ranks of choice chrysanthemums, conveyed the same suggestion of order, wealth and refinement. One might, he thought, have expected to find some qualities that matched with these--dignity, power, a fine regard for honor--in the owner of such a place, but he had not even common courage. An imposing figure, to outward seeming, the Canadian regarded him as one who owed everything to a little surface polish and his London clothes. Lisle paused to look back when he reached the end of the terrace, from which a path that would save him a short walk led through a shrubbery. One wing of the building was covered with Virginia creeper that glowed with the gorgeous hues of a fading maple leaf, the sunlight lay on the grass, and the feeling of tranquillity that hung about the place grew stronger. He thought that he could understand how the desire to possess it would stir an Englishman reared in such surroundings, and yet he was now convinced that this was not the impulse which had driven Gladwyne into deserting his starving cousin. The man had merely yielded to craven fear. He heard footsteps, and looking around was a little surprised to see Batley moving toward him.