Leonard's visits to town had not of late been many, and such as he had
had were not accompanied with a plethora of cash. He now felt that he
had earned a holiday; and it was not till the third morning that he
returned to Brindehow. His father made no comment on his absence; his
only allusion to the subject was:

'Back all right! Any news in town?' There was, however, an unwonted
suavity in his manner which made Leonard a little anxious. He busied
himself for the balance of the morning in getting together all his unpaid
accounts and making a schedule of them. The total at first amazed almost
as much as it frightened him. He feared what Stephen would say. She had
already commented unfavourably on the one amount she had seen. When she
was face to face with this she might refuse to pay altogether. It would
therefore be wise to propitiate her. What could he do in this direction? His thoughts naturally turned to the missing letter. If he could get
possession of it, it would either serve as a sop or a threat. In the one
case she would be so glad to have it back that she would not stick at a
few pounds; in the other it would 'bring her to her senses' as he put in
his own mind his intention of blackmail. He was getting so tightened up in situation that as yet he could only do
as he was told, and keep his temper as well as he could. Altogether it was in a chastened mood that he made his appearance at
Normanstand later in the afternoon. He was evidently expected, for he
was shown into the study without a word. Here Miss Rowly and Stephen
joined him. Both were very kind in manner. After the usual greetings
and commonplaces Stephen said in a brisk, businesslike way:

'Have you the papers with you?' He took the bundle of accounts from his
pocket and handed them to her. After his previous experience he would
have suggested, had he dared, that he should see Stephen alone; but he
feared the old lady. He therefore merely said:

'I am afraid you will find the amount very large. But I have put down
everything!' So he had; and more than everything. At the last an idea struck him that
as he was getting so much he might as well have a little more. He
therefore added several good-sized amounts which he called 'debts of
honour.' This would, he thought, appeal to the feminine mind. Stephen
did not look at the papers at once. She stood up, holding them, and said
to Miss Rowly:

'Now, if you will talk to Mr. Everard I will go over these documents
quietly by myself. When I have been through them and understand them all
I shall come back; and we will see what can be done.' She moved
gracefully out of the room, closing the door behind her. As is usual
with women, she had more than one motive for her action in going away. In
the first place, she wished to be alone whilst she went over the schedule
of the debts. She feared she might get angry; and in the present state
of her mind towards Leonard the expression of any feeling, even contempt,
would not be wise. Her best protection from him would be a manifest
kindly negation of any special interest. In the second place, she
believed that he would have her letter with the other papers, and she did
not wish her aunt to see it, lest she should recognise the writing. In
her boudoir, with a beating heart, she untied the string and looked
through the papers. Her letter was not among them. For a few seconds she stood stock still, thinking. Then, with a sigh,
she sat down and began to read the list of debts, turning to the
originals now and again for details. As she went on, her wonder and
disgust grew; and even a sense of fear came into her thoughts. A man who
could be so wildly reckless and so selfishly unscrupulous was to be
feared. She knew his father was a comparatively poor man, who could not
possibly meet such a burden. If he were thus to his father, what might
he be to her if he got a chance. The thought of what he might have been to her, had he taken the chance
she had given him, never occurred to her. This possibility had already
reached the historical stage in her mind. She made a few pencil notes on the list; and went back to the study. Her
mind was made up. She was quite businesslike and calm, did not manifest the slightest
disapproval, but seemed to simply accept everything as facts. She asked
Leonard a few questions on subjects regarding which she had made notes,
such as discounts. Then she held the paper out to him and without any
preliminary remark said:

'Will you please put the names to these?' 'How do you mean?' he asked, flushing. 'The names of the persons to whom these sums marked "debt of honour" are
due.' His reply came quickly, and was a little aggressive; he thought
this might be a good time to make a bluff:

'I do not see that that is necessary. I can settle them when I have the
money.' Slowly and without either pause or flurry Stephen replied,
looking him straight in the eyes as she handed him the papers:

'Of course it is not necessary! Few things in the world really are! I
only wanted to help you out of your troubles; but if you do not wish me
to . . . !' Leonard interrupted in alarm:

'No! no! I only spoke of these items. You see, being "debts of honour"
I ought not to give the names.' Looking with a keen glance at her set
face he saw she was obdurate; and, recognising his defeat, said as calmly
as he could, for he felt raging:

'All right! Give me the paper!' Bending over the table he wrote. When
she took the paper, a look half surprised, half indignant, passed over
her face. Her watchful aunt saw it, and bending over looked also at the
paper. Then she too smiled bitterly. Leonard had printed in the names! The feminine keenness of both women
had made his intention manifest. He did not wish for the possibility of
his handwriting being recognised. His punishment came quickly. With a
dazzling smile Stephen said to him:

'But, Leonard, you have forgotten to put the addresses!' 'Is that necessary?' 'Of course it is! Why, you silly, how is the money to be paid if there
are no addresses?' Leonard felt like a rat in a trap; but he had no alternative. So
irritated was he, and so anxious to hide his irritation that, forgetting
his own caution, he wrote, not in printing characters but in his own
handwriting, addresses evolved from his own imagination. Stephen's eyes
twinkled as he handed her the paper: he had given himself away all round. Leonard having done all that as yet had been required of him, felt that
he might now ask a further favour, so he said:

'There is one of those bills which I have promised to pay by Monday.' 'Promised?' said Stephen with wide-opened eyes. She had no idea of
sparing him, she remembered the printed names. 'Why, Leonard, I thought
you said you were unable to pay any of those debts?' Again he had put himself in a false position. He could not say that it
was to his father he had made the promise; for he had already told
Stephen that he had been afraid to tell him of his debts.