lain words," Barrington said, "I will do
so. I ask you to aid me as a man of honor in the restoration of those
letters to my wife."

"I cannot do it," Aynesworth said firmly. "I am sorry that you should
have come to me with such an offer. It is quite out of the question!"

Barrington held out his hand.

"Do not decide too hastily," he said. "Remember this. Sir Wingrave Seton
had once an opportunity of putting those letters to any use he may have
thought fit. He ignored it. At that time, their tenor and contents might
easily have been explained. After all these years, that task would be
far more difficult. I say that no man has a right to keep a woman's
letters back from her years after any friendship there may have been
between them is over. It is not the action of an honorable man. Sir
Wingrave Seton has placed himself outside the pale of honorable men."

"Your judgment," Aynesworth answered quietly, "seems to me severe. Sir
Wingrave Seton has been the victim of peculiar circumstances."

Barrington looked at his companion thoughtfully. He was wondering
exactly how much he knew.

"You defend him," he remarked. "That is because you have not yet found
out what manner of man he is."

"In any case," Aynesworth answered, "I am not his judge. Mr.
Barrington," he added, "You must forgive me if I remind you that this is
a somewhat unprofitable discussion."

A short silence followed. With Barrington it did not appear to be a
silence of irresolution. He was leaning a little forward in his chair,
and his head was resting upon his hand. Of his companion he seemed for
the moment to have become oblivious. Aynesworth watched him curiously.
Was he looking back through the years, he wondered, to that one brief
but lurid chapter of history; or was it his own future of which he was
thinking,--a future which, to the world, must seem so full of brilliant
possibilities, and yet which he himself must feel to be so fatally and
miserably insecure?

"Mr. Aynesworth," he said at last, "I suppose from a crude point of view
I am here to bribe you."

Aynesworth shrugged his shoulders.

"Is it worth while?" he asked a little wearily. "I have tried to be
civil--but I have also tried to make you understand. Your task is
absolutely hopeless!"

"It should not be," Barrington persisted. "This is one of those rare
cases, in which anything is justifiable. Seton had his chance at the
trial. He chose to keep silence. I do not praise him or blam