He went to the table and put them down, turned for a moment undecided, and then joined the group, which watched him with a surprised and hostile curiosity, so far as the brothers were concerned. She turned her face towards him with a fixed, imperious look. ‘I forgot,’ she said hurriedly; ‘I think you have both seen my agent, Mr. Brown.’ Roger d’Eyncourt gave an abrupt nod of recognition; the Colonel only gazed from his chair. ‘I thought Mr. Brown had been your steward, Joan.’ ‘He is my--everything that is serviceable and trustworthy,’ she said. The words seemed to vibrate in the air, so full of meaning were they, and she herself to thrill with some strong sentiment which fixed her look upon this man. He paused a little as if he intended to speak, but after a minute’s uncertainty, with a rustic inclination of his head, went slowly away. Mrs. Blencarrow dropped suddenly into her chair as the door closed, as if some tremendous tension had relaxed. The brothers looked wonderingly at each other again. ‘That is all very well; the people you employ are in your own hands; but this is of far more consequence.’ ‘Joan,’ said the Colonel, ‘I don’t know what to think. For God’s sake answer one way or another! Why don’t you speak? For the sake of your children, for the sake of your own honour, your credit, your family--Is it true?’ ‘Hush, Rex! Of course we know it isn’t true. But, Joan, be reasonable, my dear; let’s have your word for it, that we may face the world. Of course we know well enough that you’re the last woman to dishonour Blencarrow’s memory--poor old fellow! who was so fond of you--and deceive everybody.’ ‘You seem to have believed me capable of all that, or you would not have come here!’ ‘No, Joan, no--not so. Do, for God’s sake, take the right view of it! Tell us simply that you are not married, and have never thought of such a thing, which I for one am sure of to begin with.’ ‘Perhaps,’ she said, with a curious hard note of a laugh, ‘they have told you, having told you so much, whom I am supposed to have married, as you say.’ Again they looked at each other. ‘No one,’ said the Colonel, ‘has told us that.’ She laughed again. ‘Then if this is all you know, and all I am accused of, to have married no one knows who, no one knows when, you must come to what conclusion you please, and make what discoveries you can. I have nothing to say.’ ‘Joan!’ they both cried. ‘You must do exactly what seems good to you,’ she said, rising hastily. ‘Find out what you can, say what you like--you shall not have a word from me.’ CHAPTER VII. A NIGHT OF MISERY. She was gone before they could say another word, leaving them looking at each other in consternation, not knowing what to think.