s it in no way
affect your feelings towards us that you are now Peter's cousin by
marriage--besides being practically, his half-brother?"

"I am not practically, or in any other way, Peter's half-brother," said
Urquhart casually. "But that is neither here nor there. Peter and I
are--have been--friends, as you know. I should naturally give him help if
he asked me for it. He has not done so; all that has happened is that you
have tried to blackmail me.... I really see no use in prolonging this
interview, Mr. Margerison. Good night." Urquhart was bored and impatient
with the absurd scene.

Into the middle of it walked Peter, pale and breathless. He stood by the
door and looked at them, dazed and blinking at the light; looked at
Urquhart, who stood leaning his shoulder against the chimney-piece,
his hands in his pockets, the light full on his fair, tranquil, bored
face, and at Hilary, pale and tragic, with wavering, unhappy eyes. So
they stood for a type and a symbol and a sign that never, as long as the
world endures, shall Margerisons get the better of Urquharts.

They both looked at Peter, and Urquhart's brows rose a little, as if to
say, "More Margerisons yet?"

Hilary said, "What's the matter, Peter? Why have _you_ come?"

Peter said, rather faintly, "I meant to stop you before you saw Denis. I
suppose I'm too late.... I made Peggy tell me. I found a paper, you see;
and I asked Peggy, and she said you'd come down here to use it. _Have_
you?"

"He has already done his worst," Denis's ironic voice answered for him.
"Sprung the awful threat upon me."

Peter leant back against the door, feeling rather sick. He had run all
the way from the station; and, as always, he was too late.

Then he laughed a little. The contrast of Hilary's tragedian air and
Urquhart's tranquil boredom was upsetting to him.

Urquhart didn't laugh, but looked at him enquiringly.

"It's certainly funny rather," he said quietly. "You must have got a good
deal of quiet fun out of compiling that column."

"Oh," said Peter. "But I didn't, you know."

"I gather you helped--supplied much of the information. That story of
the old man I brutally slew and then callously left uncared for on the
road--you seem to have coloured that rather highly in passing it
on.... I suppose it was stupid of me to fancy that you weren't intending
to make that public property. Not that I particularly mind: there was
nothing to be ashamed of in that business; but it