The big clock on the breakfast-room mantelpiece was chiming the hour of ten as Sir George came downstairs. He was a little later than usual, and he apologized to his guest for his want of punctuality with a courtly air. He was not accustomed to country hours, he said; he doubted if he ever should be. He made no allusion whatever to his last night's quarrel, his manner was perfectly natural and easy. If anything, there was a suggestion of bland patronage in his tone.

Mayfield glanced keenly at his host from time to time. There was something here that he quite failed to understand. He had expected to find Sir George apologetic and rather frightened. On the contrary, he was more like a bishop who entertains a curate than anything else. And Mayfield could get nothing from Mary, who sat at the head of the table, cold and stately, yet serenely beautiful, in her white cotton dress. Mayfield ground his teeth together and swore that Dashwood should pay for this before long. He held the fortunes of the baronet in the hollow of his hand; his passion for Mary was the more inflamed by her icy coldness. It would be good to humble her pride in the dust, to compel her to come to his feet and do his bidding. All the same, Mayfield had made up his mind to have an explanation after breakfast. He smiled and talked, though his anger was hot within him.

"Mr. Mayfield will want a time-table presently, my dear," Sir George was saying in his most courtly manner. "I am afraid that we have intruded too long already on his valuable time."

"I have always time to spare for you," Mayfield said with a snarling smile. "And Miss Mary need not trouble about the time-table. You forget that I have my car here which will get me to London by mid-day. Before I go I should like to have a few words with you, Sir George. You will pardon me for mentioning it, but we left matters in rather an unsatisfactory condition last night."

The little shaft passed harmlessly over Sir George's head. He smiled blandly.

"To be sure we did," he said. "You are quite right, we will settle things up before you go. What do you say to a cigar on the terrace after breakfast? No, you need not go, Mary. I have a reason for asking you to listen to our business conversation. We had a quarrel last night, when I regret to say I lost my temper. For that exhibition of unseemly and vulgar violence I sincerely beg your pardon, Mayfield. I apologize all the more humbly because we are not likely to meet very often in the future. Henceforth our business transactions promise to be slender, for after this week I am determined that the City shall not see me again. You will quite see, Mayfield, that in future our intercourse must cease. It is rather painful to talk to a guest like this, but you will understand me."

Mayfield's face expressed his astonishment. He wondered if Sir George had taken leave of his senses, and deluded himself into the belief that he was the possessor of a vast fortune. And yet the speaker was absolutely calm and collected. What could possibly have happened since last night to change him like this?

"Perhaps I am rather dense this morning," Mayfield said slowly, "but I cannot follow you at all. Yesterday I explained to you the position of affairs fully. We had been deceived by a trusted servant of mine, and you were called upon to pay ￡50,000. Failing this, you would perhaps have to face a criminal charge. Unfortunately, your hold upon the estate is so slender that it would not be possible for you to borrow any large sum of money. Not to speak too plainly, your position was, and is, a desperate one. Partly because I was in a measure instrumental in bringing about this lamentable state of affairs, I offered to advance you the money. In other words, I offered to give you ￡50,000. It is true there was a condition, but I merely allude to that in the presence of Miss Dashwood."

Mary's face flamed. Her heart was heavy within her. So far as she could see, this was the master of the situation. He held the demons of Disgrace and Bankruptcy at bay. What was the cherished possession of Dashwood worth so long as the shadow of dishonour lay across the threshold? For the sake of the grand old home and the grand old name, Mary would have to listen to Mayfield's proposal. She glanced from him to the smiling face of her father, who had risen from the table and produced his cigar case.

"Quite so," he said genially, "you are perfectly correct. You made that proposal, and, like a cur, I forgot myself and insulted you. I went so far as to say that you had planned deliberately to bring this thing about. It was ruin on the one hand and the sacrifice of my dear child on the other. Pray take one of my cigars. There are chairs on the terrace, let us continue our discussion there."

"Why go over the old ground again?" Mayfield asked impatiently. He flung himself into one of the big basket chairs on the ter............