It was impossible to quarrel with a man who showed himself so perfectly polite and, at the same time, so perfectly indifferent. Hammond’s tone lost some of its hostility. “That is not the point. Till you spoke, I had never heard of the existence of this--slander.” The momentary hesitation before the word did not escape the watchful Despencer. “You have spoken, fortunately or unfortunately, and, now I have heard of it, I cannot rest till I know more.” “Is that necessary?” The tone in which the question was put made it a friendly remonstrance, as much as if Despencer had said: “My dear fellow, you want to think well of this woman. Why persist in making me undeceive you?” Hammond felt the implied warning in all its force. Nevertheless he answered: “Yes, it is necessary. The matter cannot end like this; I have a motive for pursuing it. You heard what those other men said when Miss Yorke was announced. I must be able to satisfy myself that this statement is without foundation.” Despencer could not quite resist a sneer. “I should think that was easy enough. You have only to ask the lady if she knows Lord Severn.” Hammond frowned impatiently as he said, aloud, but rather to himself than to Despencer: “And what will be her answer?” Despencer smiled compassionately. “Judging from my own experience in such cases, I should say that the lady’s answer would be ‘No.’” For a minute Hammond stood irresolute. Despencer’s sneer had shown him where he stood. Instead of silencing a slanderer, he was discussing the truth of the slander with the man who had uttered it. If he had really had confidence in the woman he had undertaken to defend, it was to her, not to this cynical stranger, that he ought to have been addressing his inquiries. He felt bitterly conscious of his false position, yet he could not resist going on. “Where did you hear this rumor?” he asked, after a brief pause, during which Despencer had closely watched every shade of expression on his face. “I can hardly tell you, I have heard it from so many quarters,” was the careless reply. “I thought everybody knew it.” “Do you mean by that that everybody believes it?” demanded Hammond. “Yes; but that is no reason why you should, if you would rather not. Take my advice, treat it as a mere passing calumny, and forget all about it.” Hammond glanced at him questioningly. “And you, Despencer--of course, you believe this?” “Well, yes; but I shall be happy to withdraw it.” Despencer’s mocking smile was lost upon Hammond. He muttered: “I must get at the truth.” “Far better not,” observed the cynic. “The truth is sometimes very disagreeable. I myself much prefer to be told pleasant falsehoods.” “And to tell them, I suppose?” Despencer did not wince. “I am always anxious to oblige,” he answered, pointedly. “You have no prejudice against Miss Yorke?” was Hammond’s next question. “I have no prejudices at all, I can assure you. I am a most broad-minded person.”