of course. I put the matter to him at once and quite definitely. I told him
what Mabel had confided to me. I said that I would neither approve nor condemn
her action in bringing me into the business, but that she was suffering, and I
considered it my right to ask how he could justify himself in placing her in
such a position.'

'And how did he take that?' said Trent, smiling secretly at the landscape. The
picture of this mildest of men calling the formidable Manderson to account
pleased him.

'Not very well,' Mr. Cupples replied sadly. 'In fact, far from well. I can
tell you almost exactly what he said--it wasn't much. He said, "See here,
Cupples, you don't want to butt in. My wife can look after herself. I've found
that out, along with other things." He was perfectly quiet--you know he was
said never to lose control of himself--though there was a light in his eyes
that would have frightened a man who was in the wrong, I dare say. But I had
been thoroughly roused by his last remark, and the tone of it, which I cannot
reproduce. You see,' said Mr. Cupples simply, 'I love my niece. She is the
only child that there has been in our--in my house. Moreover, my wife brought
her up as a girl, and any reflection on Mabel I could not help feeling, in the
heat of the moment, as an indirect reflection upon one who is gone.'

'You turned upon him,' suggested Trent in a low tone. 'You asked him to
explain his words.'

'That is precisely what I did,' said Mr. Cupples. 'For a moment he only stared
at me, and I could see a vein on his forehead swelling--an unpleasant sight.
Then he said quite quietly, "This thing has gone far enough, I guess," and
turned to go.'