Rupert nodded again.  “Chris came to me—­in great distress.  Couldn’t tell me what she wanted it for.  You weren’t to know, neither was Bertrand.  She couldn’t use her own without your finding out.  And so—­as it seemed urgent—­in fact, desperate—­and as it was for her—­” He broke off.  “No, I won’t shelter myself in that way.  I did it on my own.  She didn’t know.  No one knew.  If Bertrand suspected, he must have thought I took it for my own purposes.  Heaven knows what she wanted it for, but she was most emphatic that it shouldn’t get round to him.”

“And you tell me she did not know how you obtained the money?  Are you certain of that?” Mordaunt’s tone was deliberate; he spoke as one who meant to have the truth.

“Why, man, of course I am!  What do you take her for?  Chris—­my sister—­your wife—­”

“Stop!” The word was brief, and very final.  “We need not go into that.  She may not have known at the time, but she suspected afterwards.  In fact, she knew.”

“Is that what you quarrelled about?” Eagerly Rupert broke in.  “Noel tried to get it out of her, but she wouldn’t tell him.  You’ll find out where she’s gone, and set it right?  She can’t be very far away.”

“That,” Mordaunt said, in a tone from which the faintest hint of feeling was excluded, “is beside the point.  We will not discuss it.”

“But—­” Rupert began.

“We will not discuss it.”  Mordaunt repeated the words in the same utterly emotionless voice, and Rupert found it impossible to continue.  “In fact, there seems to be nothing further to discuss of any sort.  Can I put you up for the night?”

Rupert stared at him.

“Well?” Mordaunt’s brows went up a little.

“Are you in earnest?” the boy burst out awkwardly.  “I mean—­I mean—­don’t you want to—­to—­give me a sound kicking?”

“Not in the least.”  A steely glint shone for a moment in the grey eyes.  “I don’t think that sort of treatment does much good, as a rule.  And I have not the smallest desire to administer it.  If you think you deserve it, I should imagine that is punishment enough.”

Rupert swung round sharply on his heel.  “All right.  I’m going.  If you want me, you know where to find me.  I shan’t run away.  And I shan’t try to back out.  What I’ve said I shall stick to—­if it means perdition.”

“And what about the Regiment?” Quietly Mordaunt’s voice arrested him before he reached the door.  “Or doesn’t the Regiment count?”

Rupert stopped dead, but he did not turn.  “The Regiment”—­he said—­“the Regiment”—­he choked suddenly—­“they’ll be damned well rid of me,” he ended, somewhat incoherently.

“Come back!” Mordaunt said.

He made an irresolute movement, but did not comply.

“Rupert!” There was authority in the quiet voice.

Unwillingly Rupert turned.  He came back unsteadily, with features that had begun to twitch.

Mordaunt moved to meet him.  The coldness had gone out of his eyes.  He took Rupert’s arm, and brought him back to the table.