"Men go a bit further than I do," she rejoined. "But never mind that. I beg you to do something. Disable him, why don't you? It will be a mercy to us all. He isn't strong enough to stand it, you know. Take him away, at least."

Kneedrock hunched his great shoulders. "The weakling!" It was as if the word were an oath. "And you! Weaker still, yet filled to the brim with the very devil."

"I know I'm bad," she said, in the simplest possible way. "But it's not my fault, Hal. It's the spoiled joy that was never allowed. I'm all for love, and I've never had it. That's all."

"Love!" he sneered with bitterest contempt. "What rot for you to speak of love! Poor Darling, with his brains blown out! The silly a.s.s! I wonder he doesn't--" He had meant to say "haunt you," but he stopped short.

"He does," she replied, quite as if he had finished. "But live men do it more. Listen, Hal--rough as you are you've always been very good to me.

Only you and I know how good. Be good again. Take him away. Otherwise I can't promise, and--you know I can't marry him."

"Why don't you marry him, d.a.m.n it?" he asked cruelly.

She looked up into his face wistfully. "Why don't I?" and there was a quaver in her voice. "Ah, why don't I?"

He made no answer.

"Love is the only safeguard that I have," she continued. "If I didn't love--" she paused.

"Couldn't Carleigh hold you to--to something?"

"Nothing could hold me."

"Oh, h.e.l.l!" growled the honorable viscount with excessive force.

She smiled serenely. "You will get him away, I know. He's such a boy.

You'll do that for me, won't you, Hal?"

"His grace's car," announced the butler, quietly. And the duke started up, loquaciously, as usual.

"I say, we must be getting on. Good-by, old man! I have enjoyed myself.

Good-by, Lady Bellingdown! Come, Doody! Good-by, Lady Grey! Come, Doody!

Good-by, Wally! Good-by, Nibbetts! Good-by! Good-by! Good-by! I say, Doody, we must be getting on."

For answer to Nina's question, Kneedrock turned on his heel and strolled after the departing duke and d.u.c.h.ess.

Later the viscount came upon Carleigh in the smoking-room.

"I'm glad of this," he said, taking a chair near him. "I want to talk with you. I suppose you've said good-by to Mrs. Darling."

Sir Caryll was looking white and disturbed. "I didn't see her," he returned a little thickly. "I'd no idea she was leaving so soon."

"That's her way," Kneedrock made clear. "It isn't polite, or kind, or considerate. But it's her way. I don't know why others put up with it, I'm sure. It's enough that I know why I do."

Carleigh didn't seem to be listening.

"She asked me to say something to you," the other man went on, picking up a copy of the _Tatler_ and fingering its leaves. "Something rather nasty. But I said that I'd say it." He could lie perfectly.

"Something rather nasty?" repeated Sir Caryll, staring.

It happened fortunately that they were quite alone.

"Yes"--Kneedrock nodded--"just that. She wants me to carry you off. You see she's singular when it comes to men. She likes new ones. Nothing like the _Tour de Nesle_, of course; but just the novelty of the open play amuses her. You see, you have had your turn. That's the long and short of it. She's tired. She wants you to go away."

For a little Carleigh seemed turned to stone. "But she's gone herself,"

he said finally.

"Oh, yes. Of course she's gone. But you'll follow. Everybody does. I did. And she doesn't want that."

"How do you know?"

"She told me she doesn't. Besides, I know Mrs. Darling. Come, now, you'd better regard her wishes. I've a box of my own six miles from here, and I'm starting in a few minutes. Say you'll join me. I'll tell you some things, and it will be your salvation."

He paused and waited, but the younger man was still dazed.

"You'll make that other affair straight and marry some day if you break this off while you can. But if you don't stop you'll damage yourself badly. Take my word."

"And she asked you to say this to me?" It was an awful blow to the young baronet's pride. He couldn't quite believe it.

"She did. And it's nothing new for me, either. I'm quite used to saying this sort of thing to friends of hers. It's an old story.

"They had her down to divert your mind and bring you to your senses.

She's done it, and now she's through. She's bothered with you until she's tired. A man doesn't last her very long."

Sir Caryll's face turned quickly crimson purple. "I've bored her, you mean?" he questioned in a tone of scorching outrage.

"Well, yes, since you put it that way," answered Kneedrock. "Or, perhaps, she's getting too fond of you. We'll never know the truth. No one knows the truth about a single thing in connection with her."

He held up his left hand and showed a nasty scar near the wrist between thumb and forefinger.

"n.o.body knows just how I happened to get that, for example, except her.

n.o.body knows about her husband's death. I know that I'm generally supposed to have shot him. But I didn't. I wouldn't shoot a husband--too risky business nowadays. _Autres temps, autres moeurs._"

"Good G.o.d!" cried Caryll Carleigh.

"I don't blame you," the honorable viscount said with a sympathetic emphasis that was most unusual for him. "I know how rough it is for you just after your other sc.r.a.pe. But women are made that way."

The younger man lifted his eyes in appeal to the elder.

"Do you understand her, or anything about her?" he asked with pathetic simplicity.

Kneedrock shook his head.

"Come with me," he urged, putting down his paper as he spoke. "Come with me. I'll put you up for a couple of days and you can think it over."

"The d.u.c.h.ess has asked me to Puddlewood on Thursday," came the reply, a bit heavily.

"That will be quite all right. Fits in fine."