"Oh!" she cried, her soft voice low and passionate. "It is all your fault! You invite him here—you suggest this hateful lottery business. What do you care? You make him gamble—but it doesn’t hurt you. _You_ don’t need money—you aren’t led on by the hope of winning a great heap of money. You only dabble in it. It doesn’t matter to you whether you win or lose. And you don’t care if he loses! Why should you? You don’t care if he gets into trouble—if he’s taken to prison! Oh, no, you’re safe, so what does anything matter? And now he has gone—gone somewhere to make money, and I—I can’t find him. He is so careless—he would laugh at the idea of a policeman coming after him. It’s all a joke to you—I expect," her voice suddenly lost all its fire; "you are laughing at me now—" "I’m not! I’m not a cad, whatever else I may be!" She glanced at him, vaguely surprised. His face had lost its ruefulness, its uncomfortableness. He looked suddenly older and grimmer; his eyes stared at her angrily from beneath frowning brows. She turned to the door. "Where are you going?" "I don’t know—to find him." In a few strides he was before her. "You’re not going out alone to look for him!" he observed quietly. She drew a quick little breath. "Now look here," he went on before she could reply at all; "I don’t know where he is. I haven’t an idea. But I’m a good deal more likely to find him than you are. Whether he’ll be pleased to have me coming around after him as if I’m his nurse is another matter. I’ll do it. He’d be angrier if you did it. Although I’m the bad character you’ve just drawn for my benefit, I promise I won’t give information to the police you’re so afraid of. I shall go first to Pennington’s. Anyhow, I’ll find him somehow. But you’ve got to promise to go straight home first." "Allow me to pass at once!" Her face was quite white now; she spoke in a low, desperately quiet voice. "I’m not going to. What’s it matter if I’m rude to you? Isn’t it only in accordance with your idea of me?" "Quite. But it matters, because I am _determined_ to go and find him. I am not alone. I am with a gentleman," she added this unwillingly but in despair. "He will go with me." "He’ll take you home at once. You’ll excuse my saying that you’re acting very unwisely. You’re only keeping me—and doing no good. O’Brien is probably at home now—or more probably," his mouth twisted humourously, "out hunting for you. Hadn’t you better go?" "Yes, I’ll go!" her voice gave a little choke. "I’ll go, but oh, how I _hate_ you! If only I could show you how I hate you!" "If that’s all, you’re showing me remarkably well, Miss O’Brien." He turned and opened the door for her. She went across the hall and rejoined Herr Schmidt. When she saw his broad, kindly face, his anxious eyes peering over his spectacles at her, she felt a sudden fondness for him, a weak inclination to cry. She ran to him and slipped her hand into his arm.