Olga's eyes widened. "No, I don't. What is it?"

He looked at her for a moment or two in silence. "Do you really imagine that you succeed in effacing yourself when you hide behind the beautiful Miss Campion?" he asked then.

The quick colour rose in her face. "What an absurd question!" she said.

"Why absurd?"

"As if anyone could possibly prefer me to Violet!"

"I know at least two who do," said Max.

"Who?" She flung the question almost angrily, as though she uttered it against her will.

Very deliberately he answered her. "Hunt-Goring and myself."

She started. Her face was burning now. Desperately she strove to cover her confusion, or at least to divert his attention from it. "I am quite sure Major Hunt-Goring doesn't! He--he wouldn't be so silly!"

"We are neither of us that," remarked Max with a twist of the lips that was hardly a smile. "I suppose you don't feel inclined to tell me exactly what the fellow's hold over you is."

"You said you didn't want to know!" she flashed back.

Max's green eyes were regarding her very intently. She resented their scrutiny hotly, but she could not bring herself to challenge it.

"Quite so, fair lady, I did," he responded imperturbably. "But as this affair has developed into something of the nature of a duel between the gallant major and myself it might be as well, for your sake as much as mine, that I should know what sort of ground I am standing on."

"A duel!" echoed Olga.

He smiled a little. "Hunt-Goring has no intention of letting you stay engaged to me if he can by any means prevent it."

"Oh, Max!" She met his look for an instant. "But--but--what can it really matter to him--one way or the other?"

"I conclude he wants you for himself," said Max.

She turned suddenly white. "He doesn't! He couldn't! Max!" She turned to him almost imploringly. "He doesn't really want me! It's not possible!"

"I should say he wants you very much indeed," said Max. "But you needn't be scared on that account. He isn't going to have you."

That rea.s.sured her somewhat. She essayed a shaky laugh. "You'll think me a shocking coward," she said. "But--do you know, I'm horribly frightened at him."

"Are you frightened at me too?" Max enquired unexpectedly.

She shook her head without looking at him.

"Quite sure?" he persisted.

She raised her eyes with a feeling that he must be convinced of this at all costs. "Of course I'm not," she said.

He leaned down towards her on one elbow, his hands still deep in his pockets. "Will you be engaged to me in earnest then?" he said. "Will you marry me?"

She stared at him. "Max!"

The humorous corner of his mouth went up. "Don't let me take your breath away! I say, what's the matter? You're as white as a ghost. Do you want some _sal volatile_?"

She forced a rather piteous smile. "No--no! I'm quite all right. But, Max--"

He pulled one hand free and laid it upon her clasped ones. "You can't stand me at any price, eh?"

She shook her head again. "Are you suggesting that I should--marry you, just to get away from Major Hunt-Goring?"

"I suppose you would rather marry me than him," said Max.

She laughed faintly. Her eyes were upon his hand--that hand which she had so ruthlessly stabbed not so very long before. The red scar yet remained. For the first time she felt genuinely sorry for having inflicted it.

"But there is no question of my marrying him, is there?" she said at last. "He has never even hinted at such a thing."

"That's true," said Max grimly. "You see, he has begun to realize by this time that you are not precisely fond of him."

She shivered involuntarily. "I hate him, Max!"

"He thrives on that," observed Max drily.

"Oh, not really!" she protested. "He couldn't want to marry me against my will."

"My good child," said Max, "if you had had the bad taste to flirt with him, he would have tired of you long ago. As it is--" he paused.

She looked up. "As it is?"

He uttered a curt laugh, and sat up, thrusting his hand back into his pocket. "Well--he won't be happy till he gets you."

Olga sprang to her feet. "But, Max, he couldn't marry me against my will! That sort of thing isn't done nowadays."

Max looked at her, his shrewd eyes very cynical. "Quite true!" he said.

"Then--then--" She stood hesitating, looking at him doubtfully--"what is there to be afraid of?" she asked at length.

"Oh, don't ask me!" said Max.

She felt the blood rush back to her face, and turned sharply from him.

"You--you don't help me much," she said.

He got to his feet abruptly. "You won't accept my help," he returned.

"You've got yourself into a nasty hole, and you can't climb out alone, and you won't let me pull you out."

Olga was silent.

He stood a moment, then turned to the doctor's writing-table and sat down. "It's no good talking round and round," he said. "You'll have to tell Nick or your father. I can't do anything further. It's not in my power."

He opened a blotter with an air of finality, found a sheet of paper, and began to write.