"Often," she answered, smiling. "What do you do then--stop a little and consider?"

"Not as a rule. The longer you consider the difficulties, the worse they look. It's generally better to go right on."

Millicent agreed with this; and soon afterward Lisle took his departure and walked back to Nasmyth's in an unusually serious mood. They were sitting smoking when his host broached the subject that was occupying him.

"It's some time since you said anything about the project that brought you over," he remarked.

"That's so," a.s.sented Lisle. "I'm fixed much as I was when we last spoke of it. When I was in Canada, I thought I'd only to find Gladwyne and scare a confession out of him. Now I find that what I've undertaken isn't by any means so simple."

"I warned you that it wouldn't be."

"You were right. There's his mother to consider--it's a privilege to know her--she's devoted to the fellow. Then there's Millicent; in a way, she's almost as devoted, anyhow she's a staunch friend of his. I don't know how either of them would stand the revelation."

"It would kill Mrs. Gladwyne," Nasmyth declared.

There was silence for a while, and then Lisle spoke again.

"I'm badly worried; any move of mine would lead to endless trouble--and yet there's the black blot on the memory of the man to whom I owe so much; I can't bring myself to let it remain. Besides all this, there's another complication."

"Young Crestwick's somehow connected with it," Nasmyth guessed.

Lisle did not deny it.

"That crack-brained lad seems to be the pivot on which the whole thing turns. Curious, isn't it? I wish the responsibility hadn't been laid on my shoulders. Just now I can't tell what I ought to do--it's hara.s.sing."

"Don't force things; wait for developments," Nasmyth advised him. "I'm not trying to extract information; the only reason I mentioned the subject is that a man in the home counties has asked me to come up for a few weeks and bring you along. He's a good sort, there's fair sport, and it's a nice place; but I don't mind in the least whether I go or not."

"Then I'd rather stay. I've a feeling that I may be wanted here."

"I'm quite satisfied, for a reason I'll explain. You have ridden that young bay horse of mine. He comes of good stock and he's showing signs of an excellent pace over the hurdles. Now I couldn't expect to enter him for any first-rate event--he's hardly fast enough and it's too expensive in various ways--but there's a little semi-private meeting to be held before long at a place about thirty miles off. I might have a chance there if we put him into training immediately. You know something about horses?"

"Not much," responded Lisle. "I've made one long journey in the saddle in Alberta; but you've seen our British Columbian trails. Our cayuses have generally to climb, and as a rule I've used horses only for packing.

Still, I'm fond of them; I'd be interested in the thing."

Nasmyth nodded.

"One difficulty is that there's nothing in the neighborhood that I could try him for pace against except that horse of Gladwyne's."

"He'd no doubt let you have the beast."

"It's possible," Nasmyth agreed dryly. "But I've objections to being indebted to him; and I don't want Batley, Marple and Crestwick to take a hand in and put their money on me. However, we'll think it over."

They retired to sleep soon afterward; and the next day Lisle walked across to call on Gladwyne, in a quietly determined mood. Clarence was in his library, and he looked up with some curiosity when Lisle was shown in. Lisle came to the point at once.

"You've no doubt noticed that Jim Crestwick has been going pretty hard of late," he said. "Bets, speculation, and that sort of thing. He can't keep it up on a minor's allowance. It will end in a bad smash if he isn't checked."

Gladwyne's manner became supercilious.

"I fail to see how it concerns you, or, for that matter, either of us."

"We won't go into the question--it's beside the point. What I want you to do is to pull him up."

He spoke as if he meant to be obeyed, and Gladwyne looked at him in incredulous astonishment.

"Do you suppose I'm able to restrain the lad?"

"You ought to be," Lisle answered coolly. "It's your friend Batley who's leading him on to ruin; I'm making no comments on your conduct in standing by and watching, as if you approved of it."

The man grew hot with anger.

"Thank you for your consideration." His tone changed to a sneer. "I suppose you couldn't be expected to realize that the att.i.tude you're adopting is inexcusable?"

"If you don't like it, I'll try another," Lisle returned curtly. "You'll give Batley his orders to leave the lad alone right now."

Gladwyne rose with his utmost dignity, a fine gentleman whose feelings had been outraged by the coa.r.s.e attack of a barbarian; but Lisle waved his hand in a contemptuous manner.

"Stop where you are; that kind of thing is thrown away on me. You're going to listen for a few minutes and afterward you're going to do what I tell you. To begin with--why, after you'd opened it, didn't you wipe out all trace of the cache on the reach below the last portage your cousin made?"

The shot obviously reached its mark, for Gladwyne clutched the table hard, and then sank back limply into his seat. He further betrayed himself by a swift, instinctive glance toward the rows of books behind him, and Lisle had no doubt that the missing pages from George Gladwyne's diary were hidden among them. He waited calmly, sure of his position, while Gladwyne with difficulty pulled himself together.

"Have you any proof that I found the cache?" he asked.

"I think so," Lisle informed him. "But we'll let that slide. You'd better take the thing for granted. I'm not here to answer questions. I've told you plainly what I want."

There was silence for nearly a minute during which Gladwyne sat very still in nerveless dismay. All resistance had melted out of him, his weakness was manifest--he could not face a crisis, there was no courage in him.

"The miserable young idiot!" he broke out at length in impotent rage.

"This is not the first trouble in which he has involved me!"

"Just so," said Lisle. "Not long ago his sister came here, begging you to save him, and you wouldn't. It's not my part to point what she must think of you. But I'm in a different position; you won't refuse me."

Gladwyne leaned forward, gripping the arms of his chair as if he needed support, and his face grew haggard.

"The difficulty is that I'm helpless," he declared.

Lisle regarded him with contempt.

"Brace up," he advised him. "The fellow you're afraid of is only flesh and blood; he has his weak point somewhere. Face him and find it, if you can't talk him round. There's no other way open to you."

A brief silence followed; and then Gladwyne broke it.

"I'll try. But suppose I can induce him to leave Crestwick alone?"

"So much the better for you," Lisle answered with a dry smile. "I'm not here to make a bargain. I don't want anything for myself."

He went out, consoling himself with the last reflection, for the part he had played had been singularly disagreeable. Pa.s.sing down the wide staircase and through the great hall, he turned along the terrace with a sense of wonder and disgust. It was a stately house; the wide sweep of lawn where two gardeners were carefully sweeping up the leaves, the borders beyond it, blazing with dahlias and ranks of choice chrysanthemums, conveyed the same suggestion of order, wealth and refinement. One might, he thought, have expected to find some qualities that matched with these--dignity, power, a fine regard for honor--in the owner of such a place, but he had not even common courage. An imposing figure, to outward seeming, the Canadian regarded him as one who owed everything to a little surface polish and his London clothes.

Lisle paused to look back when he reached the end of the terrace, from which a path that would save him a short walk led through a shrubbery.