Christine spoke, her clear still voice patient
and resolute.

Robert crouched where he had fallen. The baize door swung back, and
touched him very softly like a hand out of the dark. It comforted him.
It reminded him that he had only to choose, and it would stand between
him and this threatening terror--that it would give him time to rush
back down the stone stairs--out into the street--further and further
till they would never find him again. But he could not move. He
couldn't leave Christine like that. His heart was sick with pity for
her. Why did his father speak to her like that? Didn't he see how
good and faithful she was? Didn't he know that he, Robert, his son,
had no one else in the whole world?

His father was speaking more clearly--shouting each word by itself.

"You understand what I say, Christine. Either you do what I tell you,
or you get out of here; and, by God, this time you shan't come back.
You'll never set eyes on him again."

"I shall always take care of Robert. I promised Constance when she was
dying. She begged of me----"

"It's a lie--a damned lie! You're not fit to have control over my son.
You can't be trusted. You're a bad friend----"

"I have done all I can. I have told you there is only one thing
left--to sell this house---start afresh."

"Very well, then. That's your last word--and mine."

Suddenly it was still. The stillness was more terrible than anything
Robert had ever heard. He gulped and turned like a small,
panic-stricken animal. At the bottom of the stairs against the light
from the kitchen he could see the bailiff's bulky, honest shadow.

"Look 'ere, little mister, what's wrong up there? Anything I can
do----"

The silence was gone. It was broken by the overturning of a chair, by
a quiet, sinister scuffling--Edith's voice whining, terrified, thrilled
by a silly triumph.

"Don't--don't, Jim. Remember yourself----"

The door was dashed open, and something fell across the light, and
there was Christine huddled beneath the sideboard, her head resting
against its cruel corner. Her face was towards Robert. He was not to
forget it so long as he lived. It was so white and still, so angerless.

His paralysing terror was gone. He leapt to his feet. He raced down
the passage, flinging himself on his father, beating him with his
fists, shrieking:

"You devil--you devil!"

After that ho did not know what happened. He seemed to be enveloped in
a clo