you were introduced to my father this evening? He is not here yet,
but he will be--I have taken a great liberty, Mr. Otway; but it
seemed to me that I had no choice. When an unpleasant thing _has_ to
be done, I always try to do it quickly."

Piers was no longer red of face. A terrible sobriety had fallen upon
him; his lips quivered; cold currents ran down his spine. He looked
at Irene with the eyes of a dog entreating mercy.

"Had I"--his dry throat forced him to begin again--"had I better
go now?"

"That is as you think fit."

Piers stood up, bowed before her, gave her one humble, imploring
look, and walked away.

He went down, as though to the supper-room; in a few minutes, he had
left the house. He walked to Waterloo Station, and by the last train
returned to Ewell.


CHAPTER IX


At the head of Wensleydale, where rolling moor grows mountainous
toward the marches of Yorkshire and Westmorland, stands the little
market-town named Hawes. One winding street of houses and shops,
grey, hard-featured, stout against the weather; with little byways
climbing to the height above, on which rises the rugged church,