He uttered the last word with a tentative, disarming smile.  He was not quite sure of his man, but it seemed to him that even Monck must see the utter futility of making a disturbance about the affair at this stage.  Matters had gone so far that silence was the only course—­silence on his part, a judicious lie or two on the part of Monck.  He did not see how the latter could refuse to render him so small a service.  As he himself had remarked but a few moments before, he, Dacre, was not the only person concerned.

But the absolute and uncompromising silence with which his easy suggestion was received was disquieting.  He hastened to break it, divining that the longer it lasted the less was it likely to end in his favour.

“Come, I say!” he urged on a friendly note.  “You can’t refuse to do this much for a comrade in a tight corner!  I’d do the same for you and more.  And remember, it isn’t my happiness alone that hangs in the balance!  We’ve got to think of—­Stella!”

Monck moved at that, moved sharply, almost with violence.  Yet, when he spoke, his voice was still deliberate, cuttingly distinct.  “Yes,” he said.  “And her honour is worth about as much to you, apparently, as your own!  I am thinking of her—­and of her only.  And, so far as I can see, there is only one thing to be done.”

“Oh, indeed!” Dacre’s air of half-humorous persuasion dissolved into insolence.  “And I am to do it, am I?  Your humble servant to command!”

Monck stretched forth a sinewy arm and slowly closed his fist under the other man’s eyes.  “You will do it—­yes,” he said.  “I hold you—­like that.”

Dacre flinched slightly in spite of himself.  “What do you mean?  You would never be such a—­such a cur—­as to give me away?”

Monck made a sound that was too full of bitterness to be termed a laugh.  “You’re such an infernal blackguard,” he said, “that I don’t care a damn whether you go to the devil or not.  The only thing that concerns me is how to protect a woman’s honour that you have dared to jeopardize, how to save her from open shame.  It won’t be an easy matter, but it can be done, and it shall be done.  Now listen!” His voice rang suddenly hard, almost metallic.  “If this thing is to be kept from her—­as it must be—­as it shall be—­you must drop out—­vanish.  So far as she is concerned you must die to-night.”

“I?” Dacre stared at him in startled incredulity.  “Man, are you mad?”

“I am not.”  Keen as bared steel came the answer.  Monck’s impassivity was gone.  His face was darkly passionate, his whole bearing that of a man relentlessly set upon obtaining the mastery.  “But if you imagine her safety can be secured without a sacrifice, you are wrong.  Do you think I am going to stand tamely by and see an innocent woman dragged down to your beastly level?  What do you suppose her point of view would be?  How would she treat the situation if she ever came to know?  I believe she would kill herself.”