“His was a dangerous trade,” returned the Master of Stair gloomily. “I spared him the gallows.” Delia stared at him; the words she had been forming seemed forgotten on her lips. “Why did you kill him?” she asked abruptly. Sir John suddenly moved from the hearth. “We talk at strange cross purposes,” he said. “Your brother insulted me—I did not murder him,” he shrugged his shoulders. “We all take our chances—I ran some risk to gain my end—and did more mischief than I need, maybe,” he looked at her curiously. “I’ve earned your curse—have I not?” He made a little reckless movement with his hand as if he accepted it and flung it off. “I have no curse for you, nor reproaches,” answered Delia in an intense voice. “I have not come to call you what I might. What is done is done—and I have lived through it. I have come to ask your mercy—because of what once you said—” She stopped, he looked at her, saying nothing, with a great effort she went on: “Undo a little of what you have done—give me back those papers—” “It is impossible,” he said. “Impossible, you may say what you will of me—” “I have nothing to say,” she answered unsteadily. “I have dangerous stuff in me—I know it now. I shall not use a woman’s means if you push me too far—I have it in me to pull your fortunes about your feet if you should prove too merciless—” He smiled imperiously. “I think you, too, did some lying,” he said. “You used strong words to one you talk now of ruining—and half I thought you did not mean—” But Delia interrupted him. “You lie now,” she said in a stifled voice. “You _know_ I meant it, meant it so that it touched you even through your falsity.” “Believe I was not insincere—only reckless of the future,” he answered in a lower voice. “I did not play with you—” “I need no explanations,” she cried passionately. “Have I not said that I have lived through it? Can I not also be reckless and thank you for the pleasant passing of an hour—can I not, too, forget?” “I have not forgotten,” said the Master of Stair. “Should I have seen you now if I had? I make no excuses. What I have done I have done, but I have not forgotten.” “No,” answered Delia. “I do not think you can, and so I come to you to ask your mercy.” She moved a step toward him, her head held back, her face composed and very pale in the shadow of her hat. “Ye are changed,” he said somberly. “I think I died and have arisen again,” said Delia. “I am so changed I do not know myself; if I had been not changed should I be here now? Will you give me those papers?” “No,” he said. “No. Though I would do something for you, Delia, still not that.” “Do you dare to use my name?” she cried. “Did I not dare more than that?” he answered with a little smile. “Did I not dare to risk your lifetime hate to win you for that one hour—and you were won—though you curse me threefold.” “Why did you do it?” she asked.