"He calls himself Mr. Stanley from Liverpool," I answered, "and you can bargain with him for Guest's life."

"He is one of them!" she exclaimed.

"He is," I answered grimly, for I had good reason to know it.

She got out of the carriage at once.

"I am going to meet him," she said. "No! please let me go alone," she added, as I prepared to accompany her. "Afterwards we may need you."

I sent her carriage round to the stables, and I stood upon my steps watching her. Slim and elegant, she walked with swift level footsteps towards the approaching figure. I saw him shade his eyes with his hand as she approached; when she was within a few yards of him he took his cigar from his mouth and raised his hat. They stood for a moment or two talking; then Lady Dennisford turned, and they both came slowly towards the house. As they drew near me, she came on rapidly ahead.

"He is willing," she declared. "He will make terms. Where can we talk alone, we three?"

I led the way to my study. Mr. Stanley greeted me affably and with a commendable a.s.sumption of bluff respect.

"Fine place of yours, Mr. Courage," he declared. "Very fine place indeed.

No wonder you prefer a country life. Finest thing in the world."

I made a pretence of answering him. But when we were in the study and the door was closed behind us, I felt that there was no longer any need to mince words.

"Mr. Stanley," I said, "Lady Dennisford says that you are willing to abandon your persecution of my guest for a consideration."

He smiled upon us slowly.

"Persecution," he remarked thoughtfully, "well, it is a harmless word.

Mind, I admit nothing. But I am willing to hear what you have to say."

"This first, then," I declared. "Will you tell me why, as a magistrate of this county, I should not be justified in signing a warrant for your apprehension?"

"On what charge?" he asked.

"Conspiracy to murder," I answered.

He seemed to consider the suggestion with perfect seriousness.

"Yes!" he admitted, "it could be done. Putting myself in your place I should even imagine that it might be the most obvious course. But have you considered what the probable result would be?"

"It would keep you out of mischief for a time, at any rate."

"Not for a day," he answered softly. "In the first place, the slenderness of your evidence, which, by the by, when the affair came to trial would disappear altogether, would necessitate bail; and, in the second, were I to be swept off the face of the earth, there are thousands ready to take my place. Besides, no man likes to make himself the laughing stock of his friends and the press; and, forgive me, Mr. Courage, if I remind you that that is precisely what would happen in your case."

"Suppose, for a moment, then," said, "that I abandon that possibility.

Make your own proposals. I do not know who you are or what you stand for.

I do not know whether this is an affair of private vengeance, or whether you stand for others. That poor fellow upstairs cannot have a long life before him in any case. What is there we can offer you to leave him in peace?"

"You two--nothing," Mr. Stanley said gravely. "He himself can buy his life from us, if he wills."

"Then can I--or Lady Dennisford here," I asked, "be your amba.s.sador? Can we tell him your terms?"

Mr. Stanley shook his head.

"It is impossible," he said. "Matters would have to be discussed between us which may not even be mentioned before any other person."

"You mean that you would have to see him alone?"

"Precisely!"

I turned to Lady Dennisford.

"He would never consent!" I declared.

"You must make him," she answered. "Mr. Courage!"

"Lady Dennisford!"

"Let me speak to you alone for a moment," she begged, laying her hand upon my arm. "Mr. Stanley will excuse us, I am sure."

"By all means," he declared, selecting an easy-chair.

"You will await us here?" I asked.

"Certainly!"

"On parole?"

"On parole, if you will give me a cigar."

I rang the bell for refreshments. Then Lady Dennisford and I left the room together.

CHAPTER XV

A DYING MAN

I had known Lady Dennisford for a good many years in a neighborly sort of way; but the woman who stood before me in the small sitting-room to which I had led her was a stranger to me. She had raised her veil; she was as pale as a woman may be, and her mouth, usually so firm and uncompromising, was now relaxed and tremulous. Before she spoke, I knew that tragedy was in the room with me. She tried to speak twice before the words came.

"Mr. Courage," she said, "may I speak to you as a friend?"

"Most certainly you can, Lady Dennisford," I answered.

I said and I meant it, for I was exceedingly sorry for her.

"Once I was to have married him," she said, "and I have cared for no one else all my life. There was a great scandal--a political scandal--and it was he upon whom the burden fell. His lips were sealed. I did not understand then, but I understand now. I sent him away! I joined with the others who persecuted him. And all the time--all the time he was innocent!"

Her last words were almost a wail. I was relieved to see that the tears were in her eyes at last.