ight to his
room."

"That will be all now. Tell Mr. Dane I should like to see him."

Peters noiselessly withdrew.

A few minutes later Dane entered the room. Malcolm Sage gave him a
keen, appraising look, then dropped his eyes. Dane was still acutely
nervous. His fingers moved jerkily and the corners of his mouth
twitched.

"Will you tell me what took place yesterday between you and your
uncle?" said Malcolm Sage.

Dane looked about him nervously, as an animal might who has been
trapped and seeks some means of escape.

"We had a row," he began, then paused; "a terrible row," he added,
as if to emphasise the nature of the quarrel.

"So I understand," said Malcolm Sage. "I know what it was about.
Just tell me what actually took place. In as few words as possible,
please."

"A week ago I told my uncle of my engagement, and he was very angry
when he knew that my fiancee was--was----

"A secretary," suggested Malcolm Sage, without looking up.

"Yes. He ordered me to break off the engagement at once, no matter
what it might cost."

"He referred to his pocket rather than to your feelings, I take it?"
said Malcolm Sage.

"Yes." There was a world of bitterness in the tone in which the word
was uttered. "I refused. Four days ago Sir James came and, I think,
talked things over with my uncle, who said he would see Enid, that
is, my fiancee. She came yesterday afternoon. My uncle insisted on
seeing her alone. She stayed only a few minutes."

His voice broke. He swallowed rapidly several times in succession,
struggling to regain control of himself.

"You walked back to the station with her," remarked Malcolm Sage,
"and she told you what had taken place. Your uncle had offered to
buy her off. You were furious. You said many wild and extravagant
things. Then you came back and went immediately into the library.
What took place there?"

"I don't remember what I said. I think for the time I was insane. He
had actually offered her money, notes. He had drawn them out of the
bank on purpose." Again he stopped, as if the memory of the insult
were too much for him.

"And you said?" suggested Malcolm Sage, twirling the wineglass
slowly between his thumb and finger.

"I probably said what any other man would have said under similar
circumstances." There was a quiet dignity about the way in which he
uttered these words, although his fingers still continued to twitch.

"Did he threaten you, or you him?"

"I don't rememb