In the very strength of
Harold's anger, in the poignancy of his concern, in the relief to his
soul expressed in his eyes and his voice, his antagonist realised the
jealousy of one who honours--and loves. Second by second Leonard grew
more sober, and more and better able to carry his own idea into act. 'Give me my letter!' he began. 'Wait!' said Harold as he put the lamp back into its socket. 'That will
do presently. Take back what you said just now!' 'What? Take back what?' 'That base lie; that Miss Norman asked you to marry her.' Leonard felt that in a physical struggle for the possession of the letter
he would be outmatched; but his passion grew colder and more malignant,
and in a voice that cut like the hiss of a snake he spoke slowly and
deliberately. He was all sober now; the drunkenness of brain and blood
was lost, for the time, in the strength of his cold passion. 'It is true. By God it is true; every word of it! That letter, which
you want to steal, is only a proof that I went to meet her on Caester
Hill by her own appointment. When I got there, she was waiting for me. She began to talk about a chalet there, and at first I didn't know what
she meant--'

There was such conviction, such a triumphant truth in his voice, that
Harold was convinced. 'Stop!' he thundered; 'stop, don't tell me anything. I don't want to
hear. I don't want to know.' He covered his face with his hands and
groaned. It was not as though the speaker were a stranger, in which case
he would have been by now well on in his death by strangulation; he had
known Leonard all his life, and he was a friend of Stephen's. And he was
speaking truth. The baleful glitter of Leonard's eyes grew brighter still. He was as a
serpent when he goes to strike. In this wise he struck. 'I shall not stop. I shall go on and tell you all I choose. You have
called me liar--twice. You have also called me other names. Now you
shall hear the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. And if
you won't listen to me some one else will.' Harold groaned again;
Leonard's eyes brightened still more, and the evil smile on his face grew
broader as he began more and more to feel his power. He went on to speak
with a cold deliberate malignancy, but instinctively so sticking to
absolute truth that he could trust himself to hurt most. The other
listened, cold at heart and physically; his veins and arteries seemed
stagnant. 'I won't tell you anything of her pretty embarrassments; how her voice
fell as she pleaded; how she blushed and stammered. Why, even I, who am
used to women and their pretty ways and their passions and their
flushings and their stormy upbraidings, didn't quite know for a while
what she was driving at. So at last she spoke out pretty plainly, and
told me what a fond wife she'd make me if I would only take her!' Harold
said nothing; he only rocked a little as one in pain, and his hands fell. The other went on:

'That is what happened this morning on Caester Hill under the trees where
I met Stephen Norman by her own appointment; honestly what happened. If
you don't believe me now you can ask Stephen. My Stephen!' he added in a
final burst of venom as in a gleam of moonlight through a rift in the
shadowy wood he saw the ghastly pallor of Harold's face. Then he added
abruptly as he held out his hand:

'Now give me my letter!' In the last few seconds Harold had been thinking. And as he had been
thinking for the good, the safety, of Stephen, his thoughts flew swift
and true. This man's very tone, the openness of his malignity, the
underlying scorn when he spoke of her whom others worshipped, showed him
the danger--the terrible immediate danger in which she stood from such a
man. With the instinct of a mind working as truly for the woman he loved
as the needle does to the Pole he spoke quietly, throwing a sneer into
the tone so as to exasperate his companion--it was brain against brain
now, and for Stephen's sake:

'And of course you accepted. You naturally would!' The other fell into
the trap. He could not help giving an extra dig to his opponent by
proving him once more in the wrong. 'Oh no, I didn't! Stephen is a fine girl; but she wants taking down a
bit. She's too high and mighty just at present, and wants to boss a chap
too much. I mean to be master in my own house; and she's got to begin as
she will have to go on. I'll let her wait a bit: and then I'll yield by
degrees to her lovemaking. She's a fine girl, for all her red head; and
she won't be so bad after all!' Harold listened, chilled into still and silent amazement. To hear
Stephen spoken of in such a way appalled him. She of all women! . . . Leonard never knew how near sudden death he was, as he lay back in his
seat, his eyes getting dull again and his chin sinking. The drunkenness
which had been arrested by his passion was reasserting itself. Harold
saw his state in time and arrested his own movement to take him by the
throat and dash him to the ground. Even as he looked at him in scornful
hate, the cart gave a lurch and Leonard fell forward. Instinctively
Harold swept an arm round him and held him up. As he did so the
unconsciousness of arrested sleep came; Leonard's chin sank on his breast
and he breathed stertorously. As he drove on, Harold's thoughts circled in a tumult. Vague ideas of
extreme measures which he ought to take flashed up and paled away. Intention revolved upon itself till its weak side was exposed, and, it
was abandoned. He could not doubt the essential truth of Leonard's
statement regarding the proposal of marriage. He did not understand this
nor did he try to. His own love for the girl and the bitter awaking to
its futility made him so hopeless that in his own desolation all the
mystery of her doing and the cause of it was merged and lost. His only aim and purpose now was her safety. One thing at least he could
do: by fair means or foul stop Leonard's mouth, so that others need not
know her shame! He groaned aloud as the thought came to him. Beyond
this first step he could do nothing, think of nothing as yet. And he
could not take this first step till Leonard had so far sobered that he
could understand. And so waiting for that time to come, he drove on through the silent
night. CHAPTER XIII--HAROLD'S RESOLVE


As they went on their way Harold noticed that Leonard's breathing became
more regular, as in honest sleep. He therefore drove slowly so that the
other might be sane again before they should arrive at the gate of his
father's place; he had something of importance to say before they should
part. Seeing him sleeping so peacefully, Harold passed a strap round him to
prevent him falling from his seat. Then he could let his thoughts run
more freely. Her safety was his immediate concern; again and again he
thought over what he should say to Leonard to ensure his silence. Whilst he was pondering with set brows, he was startled by Leonard's
voice at his side:

'Is that you, Harold? I must have been asleep!'