Faversham’s pulse began to race.

He suspended his cigarette.

“What is it?”

“I am asked to send a selection of antique gems to the Loan Exhibition which is being got up by the ‘Amis du Louvre’ in Paris, after Christmas.  I desire to send both the Arconati Bacchus and the Medusa—­in fact all those now in the case committed to my keeping.”

“I have no objection,” said Faversham.  But he had suddenly lost colour.

“I can only send them in my own name,” said Melrose slowly.

“That difficulty is not insurmountable.  I can lend them to you.”

Melrose’s composure gave way.  He brought his hand heavily down on the table.

“I shall send them in—­as my own property—­in my own name!”

Faversham eyed him.

“But they are not—­they will not be—­your property.”

“I offer you three thousand pounds for them!—­four thousand—­five thousand—­if you want more you can have it.  Drive the best bargain you can!” sneered Melrose, trying to smile.

“I refuse your offer—­your very generous offer—­with great regret—­but I refuse!” Faversham had risen to his feet.

“And your reason?—­for a behaviour so—­so vilely ungrateful!”

“Simply, that the gems were left to me—­by an uncle I loved—­who was a second father to me—­who asked me not to sell them.  I have warned you not once, or twice, that I should never sell them.”

“No!  You expected both to get hold of my property—­and to keep your own!”

“Insult me as you like,” said Faversham, quietly.  “I probably deserve it.  But you will not alter my determination.”

He stood leaning on the back of a chair, looking down on Melrose.  Some bondage had broken in his soul!  A tide of some beneficent force seemed to be flooding its dry wastes.

Melrose paused.  In the silence each measured the other.  Then Melrose said in a voice which had grown husky: 

“So—­the first return you are asked to make, for all that has been lavished upon you, you meet with—­this refusal.  That throws a new light upon your character.  I never proposed to leave my fortune to an adventurer!  I proposed to leave it to a gentleman, capable of understanding an obligation.  We have mistaken each other—­and our arrangement—­drops.  Unless you consent to the very small request—­the very advantageous proposal rather—­which I have just made you—­you will leave this room—­as penniless—­except for any savings you may have made out of your preposterous salary—­as penniless—­as you came into it!”

Faversham raised himself.  He drew a long breath, as of a man delivered.

“Do what you like, Mr. Melrose.  There was a time when it seemed as if our cooperation might have been of service to both.  But some devil in you—­and a greedy mind in me—­the temptation of your money—­oh, I confess it, frankly—­have ruined our partnership—­and indeed—­much else!  I resume my freedom—­I leave your house to-morrow.  And now, please—­return me my gems!”