"I," he said--"I mean to take the law in this matter. I mean to write the simple and exact truth to Lady Lushington, and I mean to confront that precious Miss Brooke with the truth. That is what I mean to do. That sort of wickedness ought not to be permitted, sir. It ought to be nipped in the bud." "I agree with you," said Saxon. He spoke very slowly, and with pain. "It ought to be nipped in the bad, and I am,"--a lamp came to to his throat--"almost glad that you have made this discovery. There would be nothing quite so dreadful for my poor little cousin as that this thing should be hidden. Now it is known, soon a great deal more will be known--of that I am persuaded. But, sir, I want to plead with you on behalf of the guilty party. In the first place, the girl in question is only seventeen. Her exceeding youth, which ought to be the shield of innocence, has not proved sufficient to keep her from acting in the most crafty and guilty manner. But she was the beloved child of one of the beet of men, and for his sake I will not have her name dragged in the dust; if I can save her from the world's knowledge of such a grave crime as this, I will. Mr Manchuri, you have lost one hundred pounds. Here is my cheque for the amount." Here John Saxon took a cheque-book from his pocket. "Give me a pen and ink," he said, "and I will fill it in for you. Having received this, will you return the necklace to Lady Lushington, telling her any story you please, but as far as possible shielding Annie Brooke from the worst consequences of her sin?" "This makes all the difference, sir," said Mr Manchuri. "I am not appointed in any sense to be the guardian of Miss Annie Brooke. I wish never to see the young lady again. She has acted abominably. I will take your cheque, sir, and return the necklace to Lady Lushington." "So far, so good. Then perhaps this ends our business," said John Saxon. He took up his hat as he spoke. "Not quite sure there are not other things I wish to say. Will you sit down?" Saxon very unwillingly complied. "You have, perhaps," continued Mr Manchuri, "heard Miss Brooke speak of a schoolfellow of the name of Priscilla Weir?" "I have. I believe the young lady was with her and Miss Lushington in Switzerland." "That is true," said Mr Manchuri; "and I had the privilege--I was, in short, the fortunate man to be allowed to escort Miss Weir back to England." "Indeed?" said Saxon, who, terribly shocked at this story about poor Annie, could with difficulty bring himself to take the slightest interest in Priscilla. "You have told me, sir, that Miss Brooke's uncle is dead?" Saxon bowed his head. Mr Manchuri gazed hard at the young man.