‘It’s out of the question.’

The red came slowly out in blotches on Richard’s face. She saw that he was angry.

‘My dear girl, I don’t think you quite realize the position. If this comes out, I’m liable to go to prison. It’s ruin–disgrace.’

‘Vincent Easton will not use those papers against you. I am sure of that.’

‘That’s not quite the point. He mayn’t realize that they incriminate me. It’s only taken in conjunction with–with my affairs–with the figures they’re bound to find. Oh! I can’t go into details. He’ll ruin me without knowing what he’s doing unless somebody puts the position before him.’

‘You can do that yourself, surely. Write to him.’

‘A fat lot of good that would be! No, Theo, we’ve only got one hope. You’re the trump card. You’re my wife. You must help me. Go to Easton tonight–’

A cry broke from Theo.

‘Not tonight. Tomorrow perhaps.’

‘My God, Theo, can’t you realize things? Tomorrow may be too late. If you could go now–at once–to Easton’s rooms.’ He saw her flinch, and tried to reassure her. ‘I know, my dear girl, I know. It’s a beastly thing to do. But it’s life or death. Theo, you won’t fail me? You said you’d do anything to help me–’

Theo heard herself speaking in a hard, dry voice. ‘Not this thing. There are reasons.’

‘It’s life or death, Theo. I mean it. See here.’

He snapped open a drawer of the desk and took out a revolver. If there was something theatrical about that action, it escaped her notice.

‘It’s that or shooting myself. I can’t face the racket. If you won’t do as I ask you, I’ll be a dead man before morning. I swear to you solemnly that that’s the truth.’

Theo gave a low cry. ‘No, Richard, not that!’

‘Then help me.’

He flung the revolver down on the table and knelt by her side. ‘Theo my darling–if you love me–if you’ve ever loved me–do this for me. You’re my wife, Theo, I’ve no one else to turn to.’

On and on his voice went, murmuring, pleading. And at last Theo heard her own voice saying: ‘Very well–yes.’

Richard took her to the door and put her into a taxi.

IV

‘Theo!’

Vincent Easton sprang up in incredulous delight. She stood in the doorway. Her wrap of white ermine was hanging from her shoulders. Never, Easton thought, had she looked so beautiful.

‘You’ve come after all.’

She put out a hand to stop him as he came towards her.

‘No, Vincent, this isn’t what you think.’

She spoke in a low, hurried voice.