The threat of Ocky became a nightmare to Barrington and Nan--the children were not supposed to know about it. The finding of so much money was an intolerable burden, and they were never safe from its recurrence. On several occasions Barrington had to sell some of his pictures to meet these sudden demands for ready cash. To add to their anxiety was the fact that they had so far refrained from telling Jehane, out of fear that her resentment against her husband would make matters worse. So her letters still arrived punctually, singing his praises and saying how splendidly he was making progress. But the day was fast approaching when the shoring up of Ocky Waffles had to end. It ended when Barrington discovered that his cousin was tapping other sources for his borrowing. On a trip to Oxford with reference to a manuscript, he surprised Ocky leaving the Professor's house. Nan, when calling on the Misses Jacobite, recognized an envelope addressed in Ocky's hand. The next time he made his visit to Topbury, Barrington kept his promise. Ocky was shown directly into the study without any preliminaries of family enquiries. He was not asked to sit down. Barrington faced him, standing with his back to the fire. “I've been expecting you. My mind's made up. I don't want to hear what you've come for or any of your excuses. You've lied to me. I know all about the Professor and the Misses Jacobite. Doubtless there are others. You can go to jail this time, and I hope it'll cure you. I've been a fool to try and save you. You're rotten throughout.” Since the accidental meeting at Oxford, Ocky had been prepared for some such explosion. He had fortified himself with drink for the encounter. But he was stunned by this unexpected air of judicial finality. He began to pour out feverish words. Barrington cut him short. “For three years you've poisoned my life. You've blackmailed me with the fear that your disgrace would be made known. You yourself have made that fear certain by applying to my friends. The scandal can become public as soon as it likes. That's all I have to say. Good-night.” The game was up. Ocky straightened himself to meet the blow. He ceased to be cringing and humble. The drink helped him to be bold; so did his desperate sense of the world's injustice. “You say I'm rotten throughout. Perhaps I am. But who made me like that? I wasn't rotten when we were boys together, and I wasn't rotten when my mother was with me. Who made me rotten? You and clever people like you. You never let me forget that I wasn't clever.