"The worst, George. Bryant, the detective, paid a visit to Guy this evening. I came in just in the nick of time. The library door was ajar, I heard what Bryant said. The Major has left a diary behind him, and, of course, he had put it all down, up to the arranged meeting in Cathcart Square. The game is up, you will recognise that." Dutton's mentality was a little bit slower than her own. "Did you hear any extracts read from the diary?" "What a fool you are!" she cried indignantly. "Why should I wait to hear? If the man kept a diary, is it not easy to guess that he would have related every incident connected with me, from our first meeting at the Southleigh dinner-party? Bryant is watching me, there is a detective waiting outside. No doubt he is watching you, too. He is just waiting to pounce." "Then why has he gone to your husband?" "Oh, you are too dense for worlds. Just to soften the blow. Can't you understand that he wants to warn him beforehand of the shame that is going to fall upon him, the discovery that his wife is a murderess?" And then Mr Dutton understood. He stretched out appealing arms to her. "My poor little girl, my ever faithful pal! And I have brought you to this!" "You have brought me to this," she said bitterly. "Did I not implore you upon my knees to accept the Major's terms, and you were so obstinate, so set. You would insist upon the other way because it seemed better to you. And I, fool that I was, always yielding to your sinister influence, gave way as I always have done." Scoundrel and criminal as he was, hardened by years of evil-doing, the man's self-control gave way at that accusation. He drew her to him, and, strange to say, she did not shrink from his embrace. "My poor Stella, I have tried to do my best for you always, even sacrificed myself. But the end has come." He recognised that, as she did. "Yes," she said stoically, "as you say, the end has come. You have always been very adept in falling into holes, and then digging yourself out again. How are you going to dig yourself and me out of this hole, in the face of that incriminating diary?" Dutton walked up and down, his face working, his hands and his body trembling. He was up against the gravest problem of his adventurous career. The shadow of the prison had always hovered over him, but now there was a more ghastly menace, the shadow of the gallows. From the prison, he could return. There was no return from the other. He paused in his restless pacing, and came to a halt before the stricken woman. He had recovered himself to a certain extent. He had gambled and lost, he was prepared to accept the fate of the unsuccessful gambler. "You are brave, old girl?" he asked briefly. She looked up at him with a wan smile.