covered at the present time?"

"The window was open at the great house, Bashwood; and your ears, I
presume, were not absolutely shut."

Still impenetrable to the sting, Mr. Bashwood persisted more obstinately
than ever.

"Unless I am greatly mistaken," he said, "your long experience in such
things has even suggested to you, sir, that Miss Gwilt might turn out to
be known to the police?"

Pedgift Senior's patience gave way. "You have been over ten minutes in
this room," he broke out. "Can you, or can you not, tell me in plain
English what you want?"

In plain English--with the passion that had transformed him, the passion
which (in Miss Gwilt's own words) had made a man of him, burning in his
haggard cheeks--Mr. Bashwood met the challenge, and faced the lawyer
(as, the worried sheep faces the dog) on his own ground.

"I wish to say, sir," he answered, "that your opinion in this matter is
my opinion too. I believe there is something wrong in Miss Gwilt's past
life which she keeps concealed from everybody, and I want to be the man
who knows it."

Pedgift Senior saw his chance, and instantly reverted to the question
that he had postponed. "Why?" he asked for the second time.

For the second time Mr. Bashwood hesitated.

Could he acknowledge that he had been mad enough to love her, and mean
enough to be a spy for her? Could he say, She has deceived me from the
first, and she has deserted me, now her object is served. After robbing
me of my happiness, robbing me of my honor, robbing me of my last hope
left in life, she has gone from me forever, and left me nothing but my
old man's longing, slow and sly, and strong and changeless, for revenge.
Revenge that I may have, if I can poison her success by dragging her
frailties into the public view. Revenge that I will buy (for what is
gold or what is life to me?) with the last farthing of my hoarded money
and the last drop of my stagnant blood. Could he say that to the man
who sat waiting for his answer? No; he could only crush it down and be
silent.

The lawyer's expression began to harden once more.

"One of us must speak out," he said; "and as you evidently won't, I
will. I can only account for this extraordinary anxiety of yours to make
yourself acquainted with Miss Gwilt's secrets, in one of two ways. Your
motive is either an excessively mean one (no offense, Bashwood, I
am only putting the case), or an excessively generous one. After my
experience of your honest