"You can't mean to let your wife stay here!" ejaculated the colonel,
sharply. "You wouldn't do anything so mad!"

Merryon's hard mouth took a sterner downward curve. "My wife refuses to
leave me, sir," he said.

"Good heavens above, Merryon!" The colonel's voice held a species of
irritated derision. "Do you tell me you can't manage--a--a piece of
thistledown like that?"

Merryon was silent, grimly, implacably silent. Plainly he had no
intention of making such an admission.

"It's madness--criminal madness!" Colonel Davenant looked at him
aggressively, obviously longing to pierce that stubborn calm with which
Merryon had so long withstood the world.

But Merryon remained unmoved, though deep in his private soul he knew
that the colonel was right, knew that he had decided upon a course of
action that involved a risk which he dreaded to contemplate.

"Oh, look here, Merryon!" The colonel lost his temper after his own
precipitate fashion. "Don't be such a confounded fool! Take a
fortnight's leave--I can't spare you longer--and go back to the Hills
with her! Make her settle down with my wife at Shamkura! Tell her you'll
beat her if she doesn't!"

Merryon's grim face softened a little. "Thank you very much, sir! But
you can't spare me even for so long. Moreover, that form of punishment
wouldn't scare her. So, you see, it would come to the same thing in the