"There you go, there you go," Sir George said testily. "I gather from the letter that Mayfield regrets his precipitate action. But, on the other hand, he fears to lose his money. He wants a substantial security for it. He says in his letter, which is an exceedingly gentlemanly one, that an amicable understanding is quite easy. He suggests that if you like to send for him and discuss the matter, he has no doubt that affairs may be arranged." Mary started forward and laid a hand upon her heart. She was conscious of a fierce pain there, as if the organ of her being had suddenly stopped its beating. So this was the way out! She had only to smile, to raise one pink finger, and the horrid miasma in the drawing-room would fade like some unspeakable nightmare. Mary dropped into a chair shaking in every limb. CHAPTER XVI. A FIERCE TEMPTATION "And so that is what you mean!" Mary said slowly when at length she had found sufficient breath to speak. "Stripped of empty phrases and diplomatic trappings, I am to make a bargain with Horace Mayfield to save the honour and reputation of our house." "Let me point out to you that the thing can be done tonight," Sir George whispered. "Oh, I know that. That is why Horace Mayfield is here. He has returned on purpose. He has carefully calculated the place where the wound is likely to hurt most. He knows the full extent of my pride, my idolatry for the old house and the old name. And I am to make a bargain with him. I am to exchange myself for freedom from the disgrace and humiliation. And that is a course that you seriously suggest." "I have not said so," Sir George muttered. He held his head down. He could not meet the flashing blue scorn in his child's eyes. "These things happen every day. Look at Lady Cynthia Greig. She married Newman the financier, who started life goodness knows where. And she was supposed to be the proudest girl in London." "Oh, I know. There was some whisper of a terrible family scandal involving a deal of money. And the last time I saw Cynthia, she looked like a beautiful white statue. There was a fierce, hard gladness in her voice when she told me that she was dying of consumption. Yet, so far as I know, Mr. Newman is an honest man." "Does not the same remark apply to Horace Mayfield?" "Certainly not. I judge him from your own lips. You declared that he had robbed you of a large sum of money, that he had deliberately worked it so that it appeared as if he had been defrauded by a dishonest servant. And all this to get me in his power. And you did not reply to that letter of Mr. Mayfield's with the scorn that it deserved; you waited to hear what I had to say about it."