without demur; or recourse would have
been had to the hypothesis of a sudden change in the Professor's opinion;
indeed Marchmont broached this solution in an off-hand way. Neither view
was explicitly rejected, but a third possibility was in their minds, one
which would not and could not have been there, had any one of the three
had the settling of the prospectus and conducted the business with
Maturin. But Alexander Quisante, assisted only by cousin Mandeville, had
conducted the business and drawn the prospectus.

Morewood came back, sat down, and poured out a glass of wine.

"Yes, I see what it says," he observed. His mood of malice was gone, he
looked troubled and rather remorseful. "Well, I only repeated what
Maturin said. I'd no idea there was anything about him in the
prospectus."

The two reasonable views were suggested again by Dick and Marchmont.

"It's impossible that I misunderstood him, but of course he may have
changed his mind." He paused, seeming to think. "I gather that he put
nothing in writing?" he went on. "He only talked to you about it?"

After a little pause Jimmy Benyon said, "Not exactly to us--to the people
at the office, you know. And there was nothing in writing as you say--at
least so I understand too."

Morewood passed his hand through his hair; the ruffled locks intensified
the ruefulness of his aspect; he had before his eyes the picture of May
Quisante's silence and her so careful, so deliberate little speech after
it. He tossed off his wine almost angrily, as Dick Benyon rose, saying,
"Let's have coffee in the garden. It's a splendid night." He added with a
rather uneasy laugh, "Quisante's coming to-morrow! We'll leave him to
tackle you himself, Morewood."

Lady Richard and Fanny Gaston were sitting in the garden by the
drawing-room window when the men joined them; Morewood dropped into a
chair by Lady Richard and, looking across the lawn, saw May strolling by
herself on the walk that bounded the shrubberies. He took his coffee in
silence and then lighted his pipe; the vanity of cigarettes was not for
him. At last he said confidentially,

"I've a sort of feeling that I've made an ass of myself."

Lady Richard glanced round; Fanny had gone across to the other group;
nobody was in hearing.

"Do you know," she said in a low voice, "I believe that man's been up to
some trick again. You know how he treated us over the Crusade? Now I
suppose he's going to ruin us!" The satisfaction o