He braced himself, almost as if he expected a blow.  But Mordaunt remained motionless, studying him keenly, and for many seconds he did not utter a word.

At last, “Bertrand knew of this,” he said, in a tone that held more of conviction than interrogation.

“No, he didn’t.  He knew nothing, or, if he did, it was sheer guess-work.  I never suspected that he knew.”  Rupert’s hands were clenched.  He was face to face with the hardest task he had ever undertaken.

“He knew, for all that.”  Mordaunt’s brows contracted; he seemed to be following out a difficult problem.

Finally, to Rupert’s relief, he turned aside.  “Go on,” he said.  “I’ll hear the whole of it now.  What did you do with the money?”

Rupert’s teeth closed upon his lower lip.  “That’s the only question I can’t answer.”

“Why not?” The question was curt, and held no compromise.

“Private reasons,” Rupert muttered.

“Family reasons would be more accurate,” Mordaunt rejoined, in the same curt tone.  “You gave it to—­Chris.”

The momentary hesitation before the name did not soften its utterance.  It came with a precision almost brutal.

Rupert made a slight movement, and stood silent.

“You are not going to deny it?” Mordaunt observed, glancing at him.

He turned his face away.  “What’s the good?”

“Just so.  You had better tell me the whole truth.  It will save trouble.”

“But I don’t see that there is anything more to tell.”  Rupert spoke with an effort.  “I stole the cheque in the first place—­that Sunday afternoon—­you remember?  I was a bit top-heavy at the time.  That’s no excuse,” he threw in.  “I daresay I should have done it in any case.  But—­well, you know the state of mind I was in that day.  You had just been beastly generous, too.  And that reminds me; you left your keys behind, do you remember?  I came in for another drink and saw them.  The temptation came then, and I never stopped to think till the thing was done.  Bertrand nearly caught me in the act.  He didn’t suspect anything at the time, but he may have remembered afterwards.”

“Probably,” said Mordaunt.  “You weren’t frank with me that day, then?  There were debts you didn’t mention.”

Rupert nodded.  “You were a bit high-handed with me.  That choked me off.  Still, though in an evil moment I took the cheque out of your book, I loathed myself for it afterwards.  I hadn’t the strength of mind to destroy it, or the courage to send it back.  But”—­he turned back again and met Mordaunt’s eyes—­“I wasn’t going to use it, though I was cur enough to keep it, and to like to feel it was there in case of emergency.  I didn’t mean to use it—­on my oath, I didn’t.  I don’t expect you to believe me, but it’s true.”

“I believe you,” Mordaunt said quietly.  “And—­the emergency arose?”