Though it had been Morris's hand which had raised so uncontrolled a
clamour, and his voice that just now had been so uncontrolled, there was
no sign, when the door of Mr. Taynton's room had closed behind them, that
there was any excitement of any sort raging within him. He sat down at
once in a chair opposite the window, and Mr. Taynton saw that in spite of
the heat of the day and the violence of that storm which he knew was
yelling and screaming through his brain, his face was absolutely white.
He sat with his hands on the arms of the Chippendale chair, and they too
were quite still.

"I have seen Sir Richard," said he, "and I came back at once to see you.
He has told me everything. Godfrey Mills has been lying about me and
slandering me."

Mr. Taynton sat down heavily on the sofa.

"No, no; don't say it, don't say it," he murmured. "It can't be true, I
can't believe it."

"But it is true, and you have got to believe it. He suggested that you
should go and talk it over with him. I will drive you up in the car, if
you wish--"

Mr. Taynton waved his hand with a negative gesture.

"No, no, not at once," he cried. "I must think it over. I must get used
to this dreadful, this appalling shock. I am utterly distraught."

Morris turned to him, and across his face for one moment there shot,