all!--somebody knows." Sir Harry reached for the
bottle and refilled his glass.

"The one thing I know is that Honoria--Mrs. George, I mean--has heard
about it, and suspects me."

Sir Harry lifted his glass and glanced at him over the rim.
"That's the devil. Does she, now?" He sipped. "She hasn't been
herself for a day or two--this explains it. I thought it was change
of air she wanted. She's in the deuce of a rage, you bet."

"She is," said Taffy grimly.

"There's no prude like your young married woman. But it'll blow
over, my boy. My advice to you is to keep out of the way for a
while."

"But--but it's a lie!" broke in the indignant Taffy. "As far as I am
concerned there's not a grain of truth in it!"

"Oh--I beg your pardon, I'm sure." Here Honoria's terrier (the one
which George had bought for her at Plymouth) interrupted by begging
for a biscuit, and Sir Harry balanced one carefully on its nose.
"On trust--good dog! What does the girl say herself?"

"I don't know. I've not seen her."

"Then, my dear fellow--it's awkward, I admit--but I'm dashed if I see
what you expect me to do." The baronet pulled out a handkerchief and
began flicking the crumbs off his knees.

Taffy watched him for a minute in silence. He was asking himself why
he had come. Well, he had come in a hot fit of indignation, meaning
to face Honoria and force her to take back the insult of her
suspicion. But after all--suppose George were at the bottom of it?
Clearly Sir Henry knew nothing, and in any case could not be asked to
expose his own son. And Honoria? Let be that she would never
believe--that he had no proof, no evidence even--this were a pretty
way of beginning to discharge his debt to her! The terrier thrust a
cold muzzle against his hand. The room was very still. Sir Harry
poured out another glassful and held out the decanter. "Come, you
must drink; I insist!"

Taffy looked up. "Thank you, I will."

He could now and with a clear conscience. In those quiet moments he
had taken the great resolution. The debt should be paid back, and
with interest; not at five per cent., but at a rate beyond the
creditor's power of reckoning. For the interest to be guarded for
her should be her continued belief in the man she loved. Yes,
_but if George were innocent?_ Why, then the sacrifice would be
idle; that was all.

He swallowed the wine, and stood up.

"Must you be going? I wanted a chat with you about Oxfo