can quite imagine it. I
should hardly have troubled you if you had not once taken the
trouble to send for me--you, perhaps, have forgotten the occurrence;
that seemed to give me a sort of right, a claim on your attention."

"I recognised it," said Charles gravely, in a tone which implied
that, had he not given this nicety the benefit of his liberal
consideration, the intruder would never have penetrated so far.
"Since that is agreed, may I ask you to explain your business as
expeditiously as possible?"

Oswyn smiled with some irony; and Sylvester suppressed a little
shudder, reflecting that the man's uncouthness almost transgressed
the bounds of decency.

"I can quote your own words on a previous occasion: it concerns the
honour of a friend--the honour of your family, if you like it
better."

Sylvester shut his volume sharply, glanced up at the other with
suppressed irritation.

"That is not a matter I can discuss with you," he said at last.

"I simply intend you to read," went on Oswyn calmly, "a letter which
your brother-in-law wrote to my friend, Philip Rainham, a few weeks
before his death."

Charles rose from his chair quickly, avoiding the other's face.

"I regret that I can't assist you," he said haughtily; "I have no
interest whatever in the affairs of the late Mr. Rainham, and I must
decline to read your letter."

He glanced significantly at the door, not suppressing a slight yawn;
it was incredible how this repulsive little artist, with his
indelicate propositions, bored him.

But Oswyn ignored his gesture; simply laid the missive in question
on the table; then he glanced casually at his watch.

"I can't compel you to read this letter," he said in the same
studiously calm voice. "I warn you that your honour is gravely
interested in its contents, and I will give you five minutes in
which to decide. If you still persist in your determination, I have
no course left but to send copies of it to some of Rainham's most
intimate friends, and to your sister, Mrs. Lightmark."

He had his watch in one hand, but his gaze, curiously ironical,
followed the direction of Charles's irresolute eyes, and the five
minutes had not elapsed before he realized--and a touch of triumph
mingled with his immense contempt of the man and his pompous
unreality--that Charles's resolution had succumbed.

He stretched out his hand for the letter, unfolded it deliberately,
and read it once, twice, three times, with a judicial