Over Thresk's shoulder he saw Stella Ballantyne standing erect in the middle of the room, her shining gown the one bright patch of colour. "You here?" he cried to her, and Thresk made way for him to enter. He advanced to her with a look of triumph in his eyes. "You here--at this house--with Thresk? You were persuading him to continue to hold his tongue." Stella met his gaze steadily. "No," she replied. "He was persuading me to the truth, and he has succeeded." Mr. Hazlewood smiled and nodded. There was no magnanimity in his triumph. A schoolboy would have shown more chivalry to the opponent who was down. "You confess then? Good! Richard must be told." "Yes," answered Stella. "I claim the right to tell him." But Mr. Hazlewood scoffed at the proposal. "Oh dear no!" he cried. "I refuse the claim. I shall go straight to Richard now." He had actually taken a couple of steps towards the door before Stella's voice rang out suddenly loud and imperative. "Take care, Mr. Hazlewood. After you have told him he will come to me. Take care!" Hazlewood stopped. Certainly that was true. "I'll tell Dick to-morrow, here, in your presence," she said. "And if he wishes it I'll set him free and never trouble either of you again." Hazlewood looked at Thresk and was persuaded to consent. Reflection showed him that it was the better plan. He himself would be present when Stella spoke. He would see that the truth was told without embroidery. "Very well, to-morrow," he said. Stella flung the cloak over her shoulders and went up to the window. Thresk opened it for her. "I'll see you to your door," he said. The moon had risen now. It hung low with the branches of a tree like a lattice across its face; and on the garden and the meadow lay that unearthly light which falls when a moonlit night begins to drown in the onrush of the dawn. "No," she said. "I would rather go alone. But do something for me, will you? Stay to-morrow. Be here when I tell him." She choked down a sob. "Oh, I shall want a friend and you are so kind." "So kind!" he repeated with a note of bitterness. Could there be praise from a woman's lips more deadly? You are kind; you are put in your place in the ruck of men; you are extinguished. "Oh yes, I'll stay." She stood for a moment on the stone flags outside the window. "Will he forgive?" she asked. "You would. And he is not so very young, is he? It's the young who don't forgive. Good-night."