Told it rapidly, now and then confusedly, but with omission of nothing essential. So often she had reviewed her life, at successive stages of culture and self-knowledge. Every step had been debated in heart and conscience. She had so much to say, yet might not linger in the narration, and feared to seem eager in the excuse of what she had done. To speak of these things to one of her own sex was in itself a great relief, yet from time to time the recollection that she was betraying Denzil's Secret struck her with cold terror. Was not this necessity a result of her weakness? A stronger woman would perhaps have faced the situation in some other way.

Mrs. Wade listened intently, and the story seemed to move her in no slight degree. Lilian, anxiously watching her face, found it difficult to interpret the look of suppressed excitement. Censure she could not read there; pain, if ever visible, merely flitted over brow and lips; at moments she half believed that her hearer was exulting in this defiance of accepted morality—what else could be the significance of that flash in the eyes; that quiver of the nostrils—all but a triumphant smile? They sat close to each other, Lilian in the low basket-chair, the widow on a higher seat, and when the story came to an end, their hands met.

"How can I save Denzil?" was Lilian's last word. "Anything—any sacrifice! If this becomes known, his whole life is ruined!"

Mrs. Wade pressed the soft, cold fingers, and kept a thoughtful silence.

"It's a strange coincidence," she said at length, "very strange that this should happen on the eve of the election."

"The secret must be kept until"–

Lilian's voice failed. She looked anxiously at her friend, and added:

"What would be the result if it were known afterwards-when Denzil is elected?"

"It's hard to say. But tell me, Lily: is there no one who has been admitted to your confidence?"

What purpose would be served by keeping back the name? Lilian's eyes fell as she answered.

"Mr. Glazzard knows."

"Mr. Eustace Glazzard?"

Lilian explained how and when it had become necessary to make him a sharer in the secret.

"Do you believe," Mrs. Wade asked, "that Northway really discovered you by chance?"

"I don't know. He says so. I can only feel absolutely sure that Mr. Glazzard has nothing to do with it."

Mrs. Wade mused doubtfully.

"Absolutely sure?"

"Oh, how is it possible? If you knew him as well as we do!—Impossible!—He came to see us this very morning, on his way to be married, and laughed and talked!"

"You are right, no doubt," returned the other, with quiet reassurance. "If it wasn't chance, some obscure agency has been at work. You must remember, Lily, that only by a miracle could you have lived on in security."

"I have sometimes felt that," whispered the sufferer, her head falling.

"And it almost seems," went on Mrs. Wade, "as if Northway really had no intention of using his power to extort money. To be sure, your own income is not to be despised by a man in his position; but most rascals would have gone to Mr. Quarrier.—He is still in love with you, I suppose."

The last words were murmured in a tone which caused the hearer to look up uneasily. Mrs. Wade at once averted her face, which was curiously hard and expressionless.

"What do you think?" she said a moment after. "Would it be any use if I had a talk with him?"

"Will you?" asked Lilian, eagerly. "You may perhaps influence him. You can speak so well—so persuasively. I don't think he is utterly depraved. As you say, he would have gone first to Denzil. Perhaps he can be moved to have pity on me."

"Perhaps—but I have more faith in an appeal to his interests."

"It would be dreadful if Denzil had to live henceforth at his mercy."

"It would. But it's a matter of—of life and death."

Mrs. Wade's voice sank on those words, shaking just a little. She put her face nearer to Lilian's, but without looking at her.

"Suppose no argument will prevail with him, dear?" she continued in that low, tremulous tone. "Suppose he persists in claiming you?"

The voice had a strange effect upon Lilian's nerves. She shook with agitation, and drew away a little.

"He cannot! He has no power to take me! At the worst, we can only be driven back into solitude."

"True, dear; but it would not be the same kind of solitude as before. Think of the huge scandal, the utter ruin of brilliant prospects."

Lilian lay back and moaned in anguish. Her eyes were closed, and in that moment Mrs. Wade gazed at her for a moment only; then the widow rose from her chair, and spoke in a voice of encouragement.

"I will see him, Lily. You remain here; I'll call him into the dining-room."

She stepped to the window, and saw that Northway was standing only at a little distance. After meditating for a minute or two, she left the room very quietly, crossed the passage, and entered the room opposite, where she generally took her meals. Here again she went to the window, and again had a good view of the man on guard. A smile rose to her face.

Then she went out and signalled to Northway, who approached in an embarrassed way, doing his best to hold his head up and look dignified. Mrs. Wade regarded him with contemptuous amusement, but was careful to show nothing of this; her face and tone as she greeted him expressed more than civility—all but deference.

"Will you do me the kindness to enter for a few minutes, Mr. Northway?"

He doffed his hat, smiled sourly, and followed her into the little dining-room. But as she was closing the door, he interfered.

"Excuse me—I don't want that lady to go away until I have seen her again."

Mrs. Wade none the less closed the door, holding herself with imperturbable politeness.

"She is resting in the next room. I give you my word, Mr. Northway, that you will find her there when our conversation is over."

He looked about him with sullen uneasiness, but could not resist this lady's manner.

"Pray sit down. Quite a spring day, isn't it?"

Her tone was melancholy, tempered with the consideration of a hostess. Northway seated himself much as if he were in church. He tried to examine Mrs. Wade's face, but could not meet her look. She, in the meantime, had got the young man's visage by heart, had studied the meaning of every lineament—narrow eyes, sunken cheeks, forehead indicative of conceited intelligence, lips as clearly expressive of another characteristic. Here, at all events, was a creature she could manage—an instrument—though to what purpose she was not yet perfectly clear.

"Mr. Northway, I have been listening to a sad, sad story."

"Yes, it is sad," he muttered, feeling his inferiority to this soft-spoken woman, and moving his legs awkwardly.

"I must mention to you that my name is Mrs. Wade. I have known Lilian since she came to live at Polterham—only since then. That's a very short time ago, but we have seen a good deal of each other, and have become intimate friends. I need not tell you that I never had the faintest suspicion of what I have just learnt."

This was said certainly not in a voice of indignation but with a sadness which implied anything but approval. Northway, after trying to hold his hat in a becoming way, placed it on the floor, clicking with his tongue the while and betraying much nervousness.

"You are of course aware," pursued the lady, "that Mr. Denzil Quarrier is Liberal candidate for this borough?"

"Yes, I know."

"Until to-day, he had every prospect of being elected. It is a shocking thing—I hardly know how to express myself about it."

"If this gets known," said Northway, "I suppose he has no chance?"

"How would it be possible to vote for a man who has outraged the law on which all social life is based? He would retire immediately—no doubt."

Regarding this event as certain in any case, the listener merely nodded.

"That, I dare say, doesn't interest you?"

"I take no part in politics."

"And it is quite a matter of indifference to you whether Mr. Quarrier's career is ruined or not?"

"I don't see why I should think much about a man who has injured me as he has."

"No," conceded Mrs. Wade, sadly. "I understand that you have nothing whatever in view but recovering your wife?"

"That's all I want."

"And yet, Mr. Northway, I'm sure you see how very difficult it will be for you to gain this end."

She leaned towards him sympathetically. Northway shuffled, sucked in his cheeks, and spoke in as civil a tone as he could command.

"There are difficulties, I know. I don't ask her to come at once and live with me. I couldn't expect that. But I am determined she sha'n't go back to Mr. Quarrier. I have a right to forbid it."

"Indeed—abstractly speaking—I think you have," murmured Mrs. Wade, with a glance towards the door. "But I grieve to tell you that there seems to me no possibility of preventing her return."

"I shall have to use what means I can. You say Mr. Quarrier wouldn't care to have this made public just now."

He knew (or imagined) that the threat was idle, but it seemed to him that Mrs. Wade, already favourably disposed, might be induced to counsel Lilian for the avoidance of a scandal at this moment.

"Mr. Northway," replied the widow, "I almost think that he would care less for such a disclosure before this election than after it."

He met her eyes, and tried to understand her. But whatever she meant, it could be of no importance to him. Quarrier was doomed by the Tory agent; on this knowledge he congratulated himself, in spite of the fact that another state of things would have been more to his interest.

"I have really nothing to do with that," he replied. "My wife is living a life of wickedness—and she shall be saved from it at once."

Mrs. Wade had much difficulty in keeping her countenance. She looked down, and drew a deep sigh.

"That is only too true. But I fear—indeed I fear—that you won't succeed in parting them. There is a reason—I cannot mention it."

Northway was puzzled for a moment, then his face darkened; he seemed to understand.

"I do so wish," pursued Mrs. Wade, with a smile of sympathy, "that I could be of some use in this sad affair. My advice—I am afraid you will be very unwilling to listen to it."

She paused, looking at him wistfully.

"What would it be?" he asked.

"I feel so strongly—just as you do—that it is dreadful to have to countenance such a state of things; but I am convinced that it would be very, very unwise if you went at once to extremities, Mr. Northway. I am a woman of the world; I have seen a good deal of life; if you allowed yourself to be guided by me, you would not regret it."

"You want to save your friends from the results of their behaviour," he replied, uneasily.

"I assure you, it's not so much that—no, I have your interests in view quite as much as theirs. Now, seeing that Lilian cannot possibly take her place as your wife in fact, and that it is practically impossible to part her from Mr. Quarrier, wouldn't it be well to ask yourself what is the most prudent course that circumstances allow?"

"If it comes to that, I can always get a divorce."

Mrs. Wade reflected, but with no sign of satisfaction.

"Yes, that is open to you. You would then, of course, be enabled to marry again.—May I ask if you are quite at ease with regard to your prospects in life?"

The tone was so delicately impertinent that Northway missed its significance.

"I haven't quite decided upon anything yet."

"Judging from your conversation, I should say that you will yet find a place among active and successful men. But the beginning is everything. If I could be of any assistance to you—I would put it to you frankly, Mr. Northway: is it worth while sacrificing very solid possibilities to your—your affection for a woman who has deserted you?"

He shuffled on the chair, clicked with his tongue, and looked about him undecidedly.

"I am not to be bribed to act against my conscience," he said at length.

Mrs. Wade heard this with pleasure. The blunt, half-blustering declaration assured her that Northway's "conscience" was on the point of surrender.

"Now, let me tell you what I should like to do," she continued, bending towards him. "Will you allow me to go at once and see Mr. Quarrier?"

"And tell him?"

"Yes, let him know what has happened. I quite understand," she added, caressingly, "how very painful it would be for you to go directly to him. Will you allow me to be your intermediary? That you and he must meet is quite certain; may I smooth away the worst difficulties? I could explain to him your character, your natural delicacy, your conscientiousness. I could make him understand that he has to meet a person quite on his own level—an educated man of honourable feeling. After that, an interview between you would be comparatively easy. I should be really grateful to you if you would allow me to do you this service."

Northway was like clay in her hands. Every word had precisely the effect on which she calculated. His forehead unwrinkled itself, his lips hung loose like the mouth of a dog that is fondled, he tried not to smile. Though he thought himself as far as ever from renouncing Lilian, he began to like the idea of facing Quarrier—of exhibiting his natural delicacy, conscientiousness, and so on. Something was in the background, but of that he took no deliberate account.

A few minutes more, and Mrs. Wade had him entirely at her disposal. It was arranged that, whilst she went into the town to discover Quarrier, Northway should remain on guard, either in or about the cottage. Luncheon would be provided for him. He promised not to molest Lilian, on condition that she made no attempt to escape.

"She will stay where she is," Mrs. Wade assured him. "Your natural delicacy will, I am sure, prevent you from seeking to hold conversation with her. She is very weak, poor thing! I do hope no serious illness will follow on this shock."

Thereupon she returned to the sitting-room, where Lilian stood in an anguish of impatience.

"I think I shall manage it, dear," she whispered, in a tone of affectionate encouragement. "He has consented to see Mr. Quarrier, provided I go first and break the news."

"You, Mrs. Wade? You are going to see Denzil?"

"Dearest girl, leave it all in my hands. You cannot think what difficulties I have overcome. If I am allowed to act freely, I shall save you and him."

She explained the articles of truce, Lilian listening with distressful hope.

"And I don't think he will interfere with you meanwhile. But you can keep the door locked, you know. Annie shall bring you something to eat; I will tell her to give him his luncheon first, and then to come very quietly with yours. It is half-past twelve. I can hardly be back in less than an hour and a half. No doubt, Mr. Quarrier will come with me."

"How good you are, dear Mrs. Wade! Oh, if you can save him!"

"Trust me, and try to sit quietly. Now, I will be off at once."

She pressed the hand that was held to her, nodded, and left the room.

CHAPTER XXII

It was striking one when Mrs. Wade came in sight of the Quarriers' house. At this hour Quarrier was expected at home for luncheon. He arrived whilst the visitor still waited for an answer to her ring at the door.

"But haven't you seen Lily? She told me"–

"Yes, I have seen her. She is at the cottage."

A peculiarity in her tone arrested his attention, and the look of joyous excitement which had been fixed upon his face these last few days changed to anxious inquiry.

"What's the matter?"

"She is quite well—don't imagine accidents. But I must speak to you in private."

The door had opened. Denzil led straightway to the library, where he flung aside hat and overcoat.

"What is it, Mrs. Wade?"

She stood close before him, her eyes on his. The rapid walk had brought colour to her cheek, and perhaps to the same cause was attributable her quickened breathing.

"Lily has been discovered by an enemy of hers and yours. A man named Northway."

"Damnation!"

He felt far too strongly to moderate his utterance out of regard for the listener. His features were distorted; he stared wrathfully.

"And you have left her with him? Where is she?"

"She is quite safe in my sitting-room—the key turned to protect her. He, too, is in the house, in another room. I have gained time; I"–

He could not listen.

"How did it happen?—You had no right to leave her alone with him!—How has he found her?"

"Please don't eat me up, Mr. Quarrier I have been doing my very best for you."

And she told him the story of the morning as briefly as possible. Her endeavour to keep a tone of perfect equanimity failed in the course of the narrative; once or twice there was a catching in her breath, and, as if annoyed with herself, she made an impatient gesture.

"And this fellow," cried Quarrier, when she ceased, "imagines that I am at his mercy! Let him do what he likes—let him go into the market-place and shout his news!—We'll go back at once."

"You are prepared, then, to have this known all over Polterham?" Mrs. Wade asked, looking steadily at him.

"I don't care a jot! Let the election go to the devil! Do you think I will submit Lily to a day of such torture? This very evening we go to London. How does she bear it?"

"Very well indeed."

"Like a brave, good girl! Do you think I would weigh the chance of election against her misery?"

"It seems to me," was the cold answer, "that you have done so already."

"Has she complained to you?"

"Oh, no! But I understand now what always puzzled me. I understand her"–

She checked herself, and turned quietly from him. Strategy must always be liable to slips from one cause or another, and Mrs. Wade's prudence had, for the moment, yielded to her impulses.

"You think she has all along been unhappy?"

"No, nothing of the kind. But when we have been speaking of the position of women—that kind of thing—I have noticed something strange—an anxiety. I was only going to say that, after having succeeded thus far, it seems a pity to lose everything when a little prudence."

She waved her hand.

"Do you believe," Denzil asked, "that his story of finding her by mere chance is true?"

"Lilian tells me that only your most intimate friend shared the secret."

"Glazzard? Of course he has nothing to do with it. But some one else may have"–

He walked apart, brooding. Mrs. Wade seated herself, and became thoughtful.

"What sort of a fellow is this?" Quarrier asked, of a sudden.

"It depends who is dealing with him," she answered, meeting his look with eyes full of sympathetic expression. "I read him at once, and managed him. He is too weak for serious villainy. He doesn't seem to have thought of extorting money from you. Lilian was his only object. He would have taken her away by force."

"Come—we mustn't lose time."

"Mr. Quarrier, do be calm, and let us talk before we go. She is quite safe. And as for Northway, I am perfectly sure that you can keep him silent."

"You think it possible?"

"If you will consent to follow in the path I have prepared. I have taken no small trouble."

She looked up at him and smiled.

"You have behaved like a true friend, Mrs. Wade—it is no more than I should have expected of you. But what have you planned? Think how this secret has already spread—what hope is there of finally hushing it up? Glazzard and you would never breathe a syllable; but how, short of manslaughter, could I assure the silence of a blackguard like this Northway? If I let him blackmail me, I am done for: I should be like the fools in plays and novels, throwing half my possessions away, and all in vain."

"Pray remember," urged the other, "that this Northway is by no means the rascal of melodrama. He has just enough brains to make him conceited, and is at the disposal of any one who plays upon his conceit. With much trouble I induced him to regard you as a source of profit." She broke off and seemed to falter. "I think you won't find fault with me, Mr. Quarrier, for trying to do this?"

"You did it ill the friendliest spirit."

"And not indiscreetly, I hope." She looked at him for a moment, and continued: "He is bribable, but you must go to work carefully. For instance, I think if you offered to give him a good start in a commercial career—by your personal recommendation, I mean—that would have more effect than an offer of money. And then, again, in this way you guard yourself against the perils of which you were speaking. Place him well, so that he considers himself a respectable, responsible man, and for his own sake he won't torment you. Couldn't you send him to some one over in Sweden—some house of business?"

Denzil pondered, with knitted brows.

"I have no faith in it!" he exclaimed at length, beginning to walk about. "Come—I want to get to Lilian she must be in misery. I will order the carriage; it will be needed to bring her back."

He rang the bell violently; a servant appeared, and hurried away to do his bidding.

"Mrs. Wade," he said, as soon as the door had closed, "shouldn't I do better to throw up the game? I hate these underhand affairs I don't think I could go through with the thing—I don't, indeed! Speak your whole mind. I am not a slave of ambition—at bottom I care precious little for going into Parliament. I enjoyed the excitement of it—I believe I have a knack of making speeches; but what does it all amount to? Tell me your true thought." He drew near to her. "Shall I throw it up and go abroad with my wife?—my wife! that is her true name!"

He looked a fine fellow as he spoke this; better than he had looked on the platform. Mrs. Wade gazed at him fixedly, as if she could not take away her eyes. She trembled, and her forehead was wrung with pain.

"Do this," she replied, eagerly, "if you wish to make Lilian unhappy for the rest of her life."

"What do you mean?"

"It seems I understand her better than you do—perhaps because I am a woman. She dreads nothing so much as the thought that she has been the ruin of your prospects. You have taught her to believe that you are made for politics; you can never undo that. The excitement of this election had fixed the belief in her for ever. For her sake, you are bound to make every attempt to choke this scandal! Be weak—give in—and (she is weak too) it's all over with her happiness. Her life would be nothing but self-reproach."

"No, no, no! For a short time, perhaps, but security would be the best thing of all for her."

"Try, then—try, and see the result!"

She spoke with suppressed passion, her voice shaking. Denzil turned away, struggled with his thoughts, again faced her. Mrs. Wade read his features as if her life depended on what he would resolve. Seeing him in a misery of indecision, she repeated, at greater length and more earnestly still, her cogent reasonings. Quarrier argued in reply, and they were still thus engaged when it was announced that the carriage waited.

"Let us go!" He threw his overcoat on to his shoulders.

Mrs. Wade caught his hand.

"Are you bent on doing the hopeless thing?"

"Let us talk in the carriage. I can't wait any longer."

But in the carriage both kept silence. Mrs. Wade, exhausted by stress of emotion, by the efforts of her scheming brain, lay back as if she had abandoned the contest; Denzil, his face working ceaselessly, stared through the windows. When they were nearing their destination, the widow leaned towards him.

"I have done my best for you. I have nothing so much at heart as your welfare—and Lilian's."

He pressed her hand, too much disturbed to think of the singular way in which she spoke. Then the vehicle stopped. Denzil assisted his companion to alight, and, whilst she was opening the house-door, bade the coachman go up and down till he was summoned. Then he sprang after Mrs. Wade, learnt from her where Lilian was, and at once tried to enter the sitting-room. The door was locked.

"Lily!" he called, in a low voice. "Open, dear! It is I!"

The key turned rapidly. He rushed in, and clasped Lilian in his arms. She could not utter a word, but clung to him sobbing and wailing.

"Don't!—don't, dear girlie! Try to be quiet—try to command yourself."

"Can you do anything?" she uttered at length. "Is there any hope?"

"What do you wish, Lily, dearest? What shall I do?"

The common sense of manliness urged him to put no such questions, to carry her away without a word, save of tender devotion, to escape with her into quietness, and let all else go as it would. But Mrs. Wade's warning had impressed him deeply. It went with his secret inclination; for, at this stage of the combat, to lose all his aims would be a bitter disappointment. Rethought of the lifelong ostracism, and feared it in a vague way.

"Mrs. Wade thinks he can be persuaded to leave us alone," Lilian replied, hurriedly, using simple words which made her seem childlike, though at the same moment she was nerving herself to heroic effort. "See him, and do what you can, Denzil. I did my utmost, dear. Oh, this cruel chance that brought him here!"

She would have given years of her life to say "Sacrifice all, and let us go!" He seemed even to invite her to say it, but she strove with herself. Sacrifice of his career meant sacrifice of the whole man. Not in her eyes, oh no!—but she had studied him so well, and knew that he could no longer be content in obscurity. She choked her very soul's desire.

"Shall I try to buy him off, Lily?"

"Do try, darling!"

"But can you face what will come afterwards—the constant risks?"

"Anything rather than you shall be ruined!"

A syllable would have broken down her heroism. It was on his tongue. He had but to say "Ruin!—what do I care for ruin in that sense?" and she would have cried with delight. But he kept it back.

"Sit down and wait for me. I will go and see him."

One more embrace, and he left her. Mrs. Wade was talking with Northway in the dining-room, talking hurriedly and earnestly. She heard Quarrier's step and came to the door.

"In here?" Denzil asked.

She nodded and came out. Then the door closed behind him.

Northway stood near the window. He had eaten—luncheon was still on the table—and had been smoking to calm his nerves, but at the sight of Quarrier he became agitated They inspected each other. Denzil's impulse was to annihilate his contemptible enemy with fierceness of look and word; and in Northway jealousy fought so strongly with prudence that a word of anger would have driven him to revengeful determination. But a few moments of silence averted this danger. Quarrier said to himself that there was no use in half measures. He had promised Lilian to do his best, and his own desire pointed to the same end. Swallowing his gall, he spoke quietly.

"Mr. Northway, we can't talk as if we were friends; but I must remember that you have never intentionally done me any wrong—that it is I who am immediately to blame for this state of things. I hope you will talk it over with me"–

His voice failed, but the first step had been taken. He sat down, motioning the other to a chair.

"I can't allow my wife to live any longer in this way," began the adversary, with blundering attempt at dignified speech.

"My wife" was like a blow to Denzil; he flushed, started, yet controlled himself. What Mrs. Wade had told him of Northway's characteristics came into his mind, and he saw that this address might be mere bluster.

"It's very natural for you to speak in that way; but there is no undoing what has happened. I must say that at once, and as firmly as possible. We may talk of how I can compensate you for—for the injury; but of nothing else."

He ended with much mental objurgation, which swelled his throat.

"You can't compensate a man," returned Northway, "for an injury of this kind."

"Strictly speaking, no. But as it can't be helped—as I wronged you without knowing you—I think I may reasonably offer to do you whatever good turn is in my power. Please to tell me one thing. Have you spoken to any one except Mrs. Wade of what you have discovered?"

"No—to no one."

It might be true or not. Denzil could only hope it was, and proceed on that assumption.

"I am sure I may trust your word," he said, beginning to use diplomacy, with the immediate result that Northway's look encouraged him. "Now, please tell me another thing, as frankly. Can I, as a man of some means and influence, offer you any acceptable service?"

There was silence. Northway could not shape a reply.

"You have been in commerce, I think?" proceeded the other. "Should you care to take a place in some good house of business on the Continent, or elsewhere abroad? I think it's in my power to open a way for you such as you would not easily make by your own exertions."

The listener was suffering. But for one thing, this offer would have tempted him strongly; but that one thing made it idle for him to think of what was proposed. To-day or to-morrow Quarrier would be exposed by his plotting enemies, and thereupon any bargain made with reference to the future would collapse. If he were to profit by Quarrier at all, it must needs be in the shape of a payment which could not be recovered.

"I don't care to go into business again," he said, with a mingling of real annoyance and affected superiority. "I have other views."

"Can I help to advance them?" asked Denzil, sickening under the necessity of speaking fair.

The dialogue lasted for half an hour more. Jealousy notwithstanding, Northway had made up his mind to gain what was to be gained. Lilian was beyond his reach; it would be foolish to go back to his poverty and cloudy overlook when solid assistance was held out to him. With much posturing and circumlocution, he came at length to the avowal that a sum of ready money would not be refused.

"Are you wise in preferring this to the other kind of help?" Denzil urged.

"I have my own views."

Quarrier ridiculed himself for what he was doing. How could he pretend to trust such a fellow? Again, there was only the hope that a bribe might be efficacious.

"I will give you five hundred pounds," he said, "on condition that you leave England at once."

The bid was too low. Northway would be satisfied with twice as much, provided it were paid forthwith. Pondering, Quarrier decided that he was about to commit an absurdity. A thousand pounds—and how much more in future? He looked Northway in the eyes.