He had asked for it, and had got it. Hitherto I had stuck to generalities; that this was particular enough I knew by his quick movement. His foot knocked against the flimsy table, and a coffee-cup all but fell. He spoke in a low but harsh voice. "That's not on the agenda, Coverham." "Pardon me." "It's not, and it's not going to be." "If you prefer it in French, it's a _fait accompli_." "You mean you'll bring matters to a head by telling them over there?" He jerked his head in the direction of Ker Annic. "That rests with you, here and now." He muttered. At first I could not distinguish the words. Then I heard, "No, not here ... now if you like ... it's got to come, I suppose...." He rose. "Very well," he said. "I'm ready." "Wait a moment till I've paid for the coffee." "Oh, I'll wait all right." I entered the hotel and paid. When I came out again I looked right and left for him; then I saw his black smock and corduroys by a lighted door half-way across the Square. I joined him, and together we took the dark street to the right that leads to where the Calvary stretches out its arms across the harbour to Lancieux. Past the Post Office, past the Mairie we walked without speaking--that Mairie that either as an Englishman or a Frenchman knew him not. We ascended the short lane to the promontory. It was a whispering half-tide, but all was darkness save for a low remnant in the west, a twinkle or two over the shallows, and once more Fréhel, this time directly visible and giving us distinct shadows. The last gossip had disappeared from the point. I don't think even a couple of lovers lingered on the steep below. It was him and myself for it, with the Calvary above us and that twelve-miles-distant Giant as timekeeper of our encounter. But he did an unexpected thing before he spoke. Under Fréhel's sweeping finger the Calvary started forth for a moment from the shadows. He advanced to it, dipped his knee, and crossed himself. Then he turned to me. "Well----" he said quietly. I waited. It was he who began. "Don't think I don't see the force of everything you've said. Every word of it's true, and a child could see it. For one hole you can pick in the position I can pick five hundred. But picking holes doesn't help. What you aren't allowing for is the force of circumstances." "It's the force of circumstances I've been trying to point out," I said, as quietly as he had spoken. "I'm speaking of the circumstances _I_ find myself in, the pressure that drives _me_ to do what I am doing. You don't think I'm deceiving these decent people as a matter of choice, do you?" "You say what you've got to say. I'll tell you what I think by and by."