Rupert gulped down his drink, and buried his face in his hands.  He felt that the thing he had come to do was beyond his power to accomplish.  He could not make his confession to a stone image.  And yet he could not go, leaving it unmade.

In the long pause that followed it almost seemed as if Mordaunt had forgotten his presence in the room.  The minutes ticked away, and he made no sign.

At last, desperately, Rupert lifted his head.  “Trevor!”

Mordaunt looked at him.  Then, struck possibly by the misery of the boy’s attitude, he laid down his pipe and turned towards him.

“Well, what is it?”

Vehemently Rupert made answer.  “For pity’s sake, don’t freeze me up like this, man!  I—­I—­oh, can’t you give me a lead?” he broke off desperately.

“You see, I don’t know in the least what you have come to say,” Mordaunt pointed out.  “If it has anything to do with—­recent events”—­he spoke with great distinctness—­“I can only advise you to leave it alone, since no remonstrance from you will make the smallest difference.”

“But it hasn’t,” groaned Rupert.  “At least, of course, it’s in connection with that.  But I’ve come to try and tell you the truth—­something you don’t know and never will know if I don’t tell you.  And—­Heaven help me!—­I’m such a cur—­I don’t know how to get through with it.”

That reached Mordaunt, stirring him to activity almost against his will.  He found himself unable to look on unmoved at his young brother-in-law’s distress.  He left his chair and moved back to the table.

“I don’t know what you’ve got to be afraid of,” he said, with a touch of kindliness in his tone that deprived it of its remoteness.  “I’m not feeling particularly formidable.  What have you been doing?”

Rupert groaned again and covered his face.  “You’ll be furious enough directly.  But it’s not that exactly that I mind.  It’s—­it’s the disgusting shabbiness of it.  We Wyndhams are such a rotten lot, we don’t see that part of the business till afterwards.”

“Hadn’t you better come to the point?” suggested Mordaunt.  “We can talk about that later.”

“No, we can’t,” said Rupert, with conviction.  “You’ll either throw me out of the window or kick me downstairs directly you know the truth.”

“I’m not in the habit of doing these things,” Mordaunt remarked, with the ghost of a smile.

“But this is an exceptional case.”  Rupert straightened himself abruptly, and turned in his chair, meeting the quiet eyes.  “Damn it, I’ll tell you!” he said, springing to his feet with sudden resolution.  “Trevor, I—­I’m an infernal blackguard!  I forged that cheque!”

“You!” Sternly Mordaunt uttered the word.  He moved a step forward and looked Rupert closely in the face.  “Are you telling me the truth?” he said.

“I am.”  Rupert faced him squarely, though his eyelids quivered a little.  “I’m not likely to lie to you in this matter.  I’ve nothing to gain and all to lose.  And I shouldn’t have told you—­anyway now—­if Noel hadn’t come over this morning with the news that you had kicked out your secretary for the offence I had committed.  Even I couldn’t stick that, so I’ve come to own up—­and take the consequences.”