matter up if
you will only let it lie. No one wants to believe evil of you. Possibly
no one will."

"Except yourself!" said Piers, with a smile that showed his set teeth.

"Quite so." Tudor also smiled, a grim brief smile. "But then I happen to
know you better than most. You gave yourself away so far as I am
concerned that night in the winter. I knew then that once upon a time in
your career--you had--killed a man."

"And you didn't tell Avery!" The words shot out unexpectedly. Piers was
plainly astonished.

"I'm not a woman!" said Tudor contemptuously. "That affair was
between us two."

"Great Scott!" said Piers.

"At the same time," Tudor continued sternly, "if I had known what I know
now, I would have told her everything sooner than let her ruin her
happiness by marrying you."

Piers made a sharp gesture that passed unexplained. He had made no
attempt at self-defence; he made none then. Perhaps his pride kicked at
the idea; perhaps in the face of Tudor's shrewd grip of the situation it
did not seem worth while.

He held out his hand. "May I have that key?"

Tudor gave it to him. He was still watching narrowly, but Piers' face
told him nothing. The mask had been replaced, and the man behind it was
securely hidden from scrutiny. Tudor would have given much to have rent
it aside, and have read the thoughts and intentions it covered. But he
knew that he was powerless. He knew that he was deliberately barred out.

Piers went to the door and fitted the key into the lock. His actions were
all grimly deliberate. The volcanic fires which Tudor had seen raging but
a few seconds before had sunk very far below the surface. Whatever was
happening in the torture-chamber where his soul agonized, it was certain
that no human being--save possibly one--would ever witness it. What he
suffered he would suffer in proud aloofness and silence. It was only the
effect of that suffering that could ever be made apparent, when the soul
came forth again, blackened and shrivelled from the furnace.

Yet ere he left Tudor, some impulse moved him to look back.

He met Tudor's gaze with brooding eyes which nevertheless held a faint
warmth like the dim reflection of a light below the horizon.

"I am obliged to you," he said, and was gone before Tudor could
speak again.

CHAPTER VII

THE GATES OF HELL

Up and down, up and down, in a fever of restlessness, Avery walked. She
felt trapped. The gloomy, tapestried room seemed to c