The glass slipped to the ground; Bates stooped to remove the fragments. Johnston Petrie advanced with perfect composure and shook Henry’s trembling hand. "Your lordship," he said. Then both men waited until Bates disappeared towards his quarters. To Henry the moment seemed an eternity. They were alone, and yet neither spoke. Through Petrie’s mind ran a memory of having stood there long ago and conferred with the late Earl, while the man before him as a boy sat on his father’s knee. He knew nothing of Henry’s use of the Fund; he only knew that he was bringing news of a big loss to his client. Henry’s face as he grasped Petrie to steady himself, told him something of the importance attached to his report. "Well, Petrie, well? Speak—man. Don’t you see you are killing me? Hobbes—what of Hobbes?" Truthfully, Petrie answered: "Hobbes is a fugitive—the whole scheme was a gigantic swindle. Every penny invested is irremediably lost." Almost before he had finished speaking, from the various side-paths leading towards them came the sound of voices. Henry made a staggering movement as though to escape towards the house, but his way was blocked by Sadie Jones, who had gone at the Bishop’s request to fetch Diana. As Henry stared at the advancing groups he saw himself already convicted. What was the meaning of this unusual gathering of officers and men silently falling into lines behind the circle of friends who surrounded him? He supported himself by his chair. Petrie quickly realized the situation as he saw a sergeant approaching with an open case containing the gift of the big loving-cup. He tried to reach Henry, but Lady Elizabeth anticipated him. She had recalled too late the demonstration arranged to take place at tea-time. There was a moment’s hush. A little way off the servants were gathering to witness the honor shown to their master, and the enclosure about Henry was quickly crowded. Henry clung to his support. He could distinguish all the faces quite plainly, except Jim’s. Where was Jim? Muffled, as though coming from a long distance, he heard the Bishop’s voice: "My lord, I am so overwhelmed with the significance of this delightful occasion and my own imperfections as a speaker, that I could have wished my task to have fallen into better hands. But when I was approached in the sacred name of charity and of that noble cause so dear to all our hearts, the relief and succor of the widows and orphans of the brave men who have given their lives in the smoke of battle, I felt I ought to be sustained by your own noble example. I will not dwell on the lofty nature of your lordship’s services to the Fund—" Henry’s impassiveness began to desert him: "Liar! liar!" shrieked the little demons as they came in a swarm towards him. He closed his eyes. "In accepting this very beautiful loving-cup," droned the Bishop.