t
you must answer for it. But first I must know its truth.'

'Must! You are pretty dictatorial,' said Leonard angrily. 'Must answer
for it! What do you mean?'

'Were you on Caester Hill to-day?'

'What's that to you?' There was no mistaking the defiant, quarrelsome
intent.

'Answer me! were you?' Harold's voice was strong and calm.

'What if I was? It is none of your affair. Did I say anything in what
you have politely called my drunken sleep?'

'You did.'

'What did I say?'

'I shall tell you in time. But I must know the truth as I proceed. There
is some one else concerned in this, and I must know as I go on. You can
easily judge by what I say if I am right.'

'Then ask away and be damned to you!' Harold's calm voice seemed to
quell the other's turbulence as he went on:

'Were you on Caester Hill this morning?'

'I was.'

'Did you meet Miss --- a lady there?'

'What . . . I did!'

'Was it by appointment?' Some sort of idea or half-recollection seemed
to come to Leonard; he fumbled half consciously in his breast-pocket.
Then he broke out angrily:

'You have taken my letter!'

'I know the answer to that question,' said Harold slowly. 'You showed me
the letter yourself, and insisted on my reading it.' Leonard's heart
began to quail. He seemed to have an instinctive dread of what was
coming. Harold went on calmly and remorselessly:

'Did a proposal of marriage pass between you?'

'Yes!' The answer was defiantly given; Leonard began to feel that his
back was against the wall.

'Who made it?' The answer was a sudden attempt at a blow, but Harold
struck down his hand in time and held it. Leonard, though a fairly
strong man, was powerless in that iron grasp.

'You must answer! It is necessary that I know the truth.'

'Why must you? What have you to do with it? You are not my keeper! Nor
Stephen's; though I dare say you would like to be!' The insult cooled
Harold's rising passion, even whilst it wrung his heart.

'I have to do with it because I choose. You may find the answer if you
wish in your last insult! Now, clearly understand me, Leonard Everard.
You know me of old; and you know that what I say I shall do. One way or
another, your life or mine may hang on your answers to me--if necessary!'
Leonard felt himself pulled up. He knew well the strength and purpose of
the man. With a light laugh, which he felt to be, as it was, hollow, he
answered:

'Well, schoolmaste