"Hints; not exactly threats. I was in a bad way, too--" The boy winced and swallowed hard; then, with sudden white desperation stamped on his drawn face: "Oh, Philip--it--it is disgraceful enough--but how am I going to tell you the rest?--how can I speak of this matter to you--" "What matter?" "A--about--about Mrs. Ruthven--" "_What_ matter?" repeated Selwyn. His voice rang a little, but the colour had fled from his face. "She was--Jack Ruthven charged her with--and me--charged me with--" "_You_!" "Yes." "Well--it was a lie, wasn't it?" Selwyn's ashy lips scarcely moved, but his eyes were narrowing to a glimmer. "It was a lie, wasn't it?" he repeated. "Yes--a lie. I'd say it, anyway, you understand--but it really was a lie." Selwyn quietly leaned back in his chair; a little colour returned to his cheeks. "All right--old fellow"--his voice scarcely quivered--"all right; go on. I knew, of course, that Ruthven lied, but it was part of the story to hear you say so. Go on. What did Ruthven do?" "There has been a separation," said the boy in a low voice. "He behaved like a dirty cad--she had no resources--no means of support--" He hesitated, moistening his dry lips with his tongue. "Mrs. Ruthven has been very, very kind to me. I was--I am fond of her; oh, I know well enough I never had any business to meet her; I behaved abominably toward you--and the family. But it was done; I knew her, and liked her tremendously. She was the only one who was decent to me--who tried to keep me from acting like a fool about cards--" _Did_ she try?" "Yes--indeed, yes! . . . and, Phil--she--I don't know how to say it--but she--when she spoke of--of you--begged me to try to be like you. . . . And it is a lie what people say about her!--what gossip says. I know; I have known her so well--and--I was like other men--charmed and fascinated by her; but the women of that set are a pack of cats, and the men--well, none of them ever ventured to say anything to me! . . . And that is all, Philip. I was horribly in debt to Neergard; then Ruthven turned on me--and on her; and I borrowed more from Neergard and went to her bank and deposited it to the credit of her account--but she doesn't know it was from me--she supposes Jack Ruthven did it out of ordinary decency, for she said so to me. And that is how matters stand; Neergard is ugly, and grows more threatening about those loans--and I haven't any money, and Mrs. Ruthven will require more very soon--" "Is that _all_?" demanded Selwyn sharply. "Yes--all. . . . I know I have behaved shamefully--" "I've seen," observed Selwyn in a dry, hard voice, "worse behaviour than yours. . . . Have you a pencil, Gerald? Get a sheet of paper from that desk. Now, write out a list of the loans made you by Neergard. . . . Every cent, if you please. . . . And the exact amount you placed to Mrs. Ruthven's credit. . . . Have you written that? Let me see it."