"Lady Letitia," he said, "let me explain. I shall never ask for your forgiveness. I shall never venture to approach you again. I have come here by the secret passage from Vont's cottage. I have come here to keep an oath which I swore in America to Richard Vont, and I have come because, if I had broken my word, he would have killed himself." He spoke with so little emotion, so reasonably, that she found herself answering him, notwithstanding her bewilderment, almost in the same key. "But who are you?" she demanded. "Who are you to be the slave of that old man?" "I am his nephew," David answered. "I am the little boy who played about the park when you were a girl, who picked you up on the ice once when you fell. All that I have I owe to Richard Vont. He sent me to college. He lent me the money upon which I built my fortune, but on the day he lent it to me he made me swear a terrible oath, and to-night he has forced me to keep it by setting foot within your chamber. Now I shall return the way I came, and may God grant that some day you will forgive me." Almost as he spoke there was a little click behind. He started round and felt along the wall. There was a moment's silence. Then he turned once more towards Letitia, his cheeks whiter than ever, his sunken eyes filled with a new horror. Even the composure which had enabled him to explain his coming with some show of reason, had deserted him. He seemed threatened with a sort of hysteria. "He followed me! Damn him, he followed me!" he muttered. "I heard footsteps. He has fastened us in!" He tore desperately at the tapestry, shook the concealed door and rattled it, in vain. Letitia rose slowly to her feet. "You see what has happened," she said. "Richard Vont was more cunning than you. He was not content that you should make your little speech and creep back amongst the rats. Tell me, what do you propose to do?" He looked around him helplessly. "There is the window," he muttered. She shook her head. "We are on the second story," she told him, "and there is nothing to break your fall upon the flags below. To be found with a broken neck beneath my window would be almost as bad as anything that could happen." "I am not afraid to try," he declared. He moved towards the window. She crossed the room swiftly and intercepted him. "Don't be absurd," she admonished. "Come, let us think. There must be a way." "Let me out of your room on to the landing," he begged eagerly. "If I can reach the hall it will be all right. I can find a window open, or hide somewhere. Only, for God's sake," he added, his voice breaking, "let me out of this room!" A flash of her old manner came back to her. "I am sorry you find it so unattractive," she said. "I thought it rather pretty myself. And blue, after all, is my colour, you know, although I don't often wear it."