“You are trying to frighten me,” she said.  “Only I know you.  Do you realise what it would mean to you if it were ever really known that you had lied at the trial?”

“Yes.”

“Your ruin.  Your absolute ruin.”

“Worse than that.”

“Prison!”

“Perhaps.  Yes.”

Stella laughed again.

“And you would run the risk of the truth becoming known by telling it to so much as one person.  No, no!  Another, perhaps—­not you!  You have had one dream all your life—­to rise out of obscurity, to get on in the world, to hold the high positions.  Everything and every one has been sacrificed to its fulfilment.  Oh, who should know better than I?” and she struck her hands together sharply as she uttered that bitter cry.  “You have lain down late and risen early, and you have got on.  Well, are you the man to throw away all this work and success now that they touch fulfilment?  You are in the chariot.  Will you step down and run tied to the wheels?  Will you stand up and say, ’There was a trial.  I perjured myself’?  No.  Another, perhaps.  Not you, Henry.”

Thresk had no answer to that indictment.  All of it was true except its inference, and it was no news to him.  He made no effort to defend himself.

“You are not very generous, Stella,” he replied gently.  “For if I lied, I saved you by the lie.”

Stella was softened by the words.  Her voice lost its hardness, she reached out her hand in an apology and laid it on his arm.

“Oh, I know.  I sent you a little word of thanks when you gave me my freedom.  But it won’t be of much value to me if I lose—­what I am fighting for now.”

“So you use every weapon?”

“Yes.”

“But this one breaks in your hand,” he said firmly.  “The thing you think it incredible that I should do I shall do none the less.”

Stella looked at him in despair.  She could no longer doubt that he really meant his words.  He was really resolved to make this sacrifice of himself and her.  And why?  Why should he interfere?

“You save me one day to destroy me the next,” she said.

“No,” he replied.  “I don’t think I shall do that, Stella,” and he explained to her what drove him on.  “I had no idea why Hazlewood asked me here.  Had I suspected it I say frankly that I should have refused to come.  But I am here.  The trouble’s once more at my door but in a new shape.  There’s this man, young Hazlewood.  I can’t forget him.  You will be marrying him by the help of a lie I told.”

“He loves me,” she cried.

“Then he can bear the truth,” answered Thresk.  He pulled up a chair opposite to that in which Stella sat.  “I want you to understand me, if you will.  I don’t want you to think me harsh or cruel.  I told a lie upon my oath in the witness-box.  I violated my traditions, I struck at my belief in the value of my own profession, and such beliefs mean a good deal to any man.”  Stella stirred impatiently.  What words were these?  Traditions!  The value of a profession!