Mary seemed to flame from head to foot. The momentary hesitation passed. No, it was quite impossible to support this kind of thing for the best part of a week; the thought of slanderous, wagging tongues was unendurable. At any cost these creatures must be removed; even the servants must know nothing. So far as Slight was concerned, he was absolutely to be trusted. Mary's mind was made up for good and all.

Time was passing more quickly than she knew. As she stood there the clock chimed the half-hour after midnight. A few minutes later and Mary heard her father calling her. She understood him to say that Mayfield had arrived.

"Let him come here," the girl said independently. "I am quite ready."

Sir George shuffled off again in the direction of the library, where Mayfield stood on the mat before the fireplace smoking a cigarette. There was not the slightest suggestion of triumph about him, his face was calm and set. He looked like some under-secretary who is about to read statistics to a House of bored listeners. He had left his eye-glass behind him, so that the cynical expression was absent.

"She's in the drawing-room," Sir George said. His manner was almost cringing. "She--she prefers to discuss the matter with you alone. Perhaps she thinks that you are more likely to listen to her than to me--Mayfield."

"She's right there," Mayfield said almost brutally. "It is a matter between ourselves. Sorry to put you to all this inconvenience, Dashwood, but there was no other way of teaching the lesson. But you need not worry, half an hour will see the whole matter settled, and even your servants will not be any the wiser. I arranged the thing so that you should have the maximum of experience at the minimum of inconvenience."

Sir George muttered something to the effect that his companion was very thoughtful. There was not an atom of fight left in him, and he took no heed of anything but his own personal comfort. The sooner Mayfield and Mary came to an understanding and those cattle were cleared out of the house, the better. After that Sir George could go to bed.

Without undue haste or eagerness, Mayfield passed into the drawing-room. There was just a sardonic touch in his smile as he noticed the snoring hog on the yellow satin lounge. He quite understood why a sight like that could touch Mary's pride to the quick. Strange what queer pawns in the game of life a clever man had to use at times! Mary was standing in the window-frame looking out into the night. Everything seemed so still and peaceful; there was no jarring note save the snore of the man in possession. Mayfield just touched Mary on the arm and she turned. Her face flushed for an instant, and then it became deadly pale again.

"Not in there," she said, "I cannot breathe in the house tonight. Do you know what I should have done had this happened a century or two ago?"

Mayfield did not know, but he could give a pretty shrewd guess as he glanced at the steely blue glitter in Mary's eyes. A certain pride of possession thrilled him.

"I think you know," Mary went on. "I should have asked you here to discuss the matter, to appeal to your better nature. And when I failed I should have killed you first and myself afterwards. I could do it now if I had the weapon to my hand."

Mayfield nodded. Far better to let Mary talk herself out, he told himself cynically. She was not the sort of girl to yield without a struggle, she was no frightened child to sue for terms. But in the letter she had written to Mayfield she had sounded the note of surrender. He was here now as conqueror; to see her walk out with all the honours of war. And surely she was worth all the strategy if any woman was, the tall, fair beauty with those flashing eyes and the skin of alabaster glistening in the rays of the moonlight. A prize worth the winning, a daughter of the gods, if ever there was one.

"But these methods are out of date," Mary went on in the same bitter strain. "I am told that they do things in different fashion today. You have done me the honour to ask me to share your future life and I refused the offer."

"Why?" Mayfield asked. "My family is equally as good as your own."

"I know it. But noblesse oblige. You are what you are. And so you planned and plotted for this; with diabolical cunning you saw where you could strike me in a fatal spot. You came here tonight in a position to make your own terms."

"Not quite," Mayfield said quietly. "There is another way for you. So far as I understand your father is in a position to make his holding sure in a few days. The house is large and the presence of a few guests, however undesirable, makes little difference. It is, I admit, not a nice thing to have one of the great unwashed smoking shag tobacco in the drawing-room, but it is only a matter of days. The matter is in your hands for you............