“She’d be useful enough,” said Saltash in his quick, vehement way.  “She’d help Maud with the children.  There’s nothing she wouldn’t do.  It would be a kindness on your part, and you wouldn’t regret it.  She’s a taking little thing.  I’d like you to have her for a month, and if you don’t want to keep her after that—­well—­shunt her back on to Larpent.  He’ll be well by that time.  If he isn’t—­I’ll look after her till he is.”

“Who’s looking after her now?” said Jake.  “Where is she?”

Saltash pushed back his chair with a movement of impatience.  “Did you think I’d bring her to Burchester for all the county to blab about?  She’s under my protection—­and she’s safe.”  He spoke with a certain fierceness, and in a moment was pacing the room, his face arrogantly lifted.  “I know very well the sort of story that’s going round, but if you’re a white man you’ll help me to give it the lie.  I know I’m a blackguard, Jake,—­never pretended to be anything else.  But I hope I’m a gentleman as well—­at least where women are concerned.  That child is none the worse in mind or body for being thrown on my hands.  You’ve got to believe that.”

“All right,” said Jake.

Saltash paced jerkily on, his hands behind him.  “I want you to have her because you’re straight, and she’ll come to no harm with you.  You never even parley with the devil, do you, Jake?  Remember that time—­it’s ten years ago, more—­when a man tried to tempt you to tamper with one of your horses and you horsewhipped him for his baseness.”

“I prefer not to remember it, my lord,” said Jake.

Saltash stopped suddenly by his chair and gripped his shoulder with a wiry hand.  “I’ve liked you ever since,” he said.  “Look here, Jake!  I’m not tempting you to do anything wrong now.  I’m asking you to do something that doesn’t appeal to you; but if you do it, it’ll be one of the most decent actions of your life.  That child is quite alone just now—­except for me.  Will you take her—­like a good chap—­till something else safe turns up?”

Jake sat slowly forward.  “I’ll have to talk it over with Maud,” he said.

Saltash’s grip shifted impatiently.  “You know very well what Maud will say.  Don’t be an ass about it!  Say No—­if you mean to say No—­at once!”

There came the quiet tread of approaching feet on the gravelled terrace and the sound of low voices talking together.  Jake lifted his head.  His face was grim.  He looked Saltash straight in the eyes.

“You’ve told me the plain truth about her.  You swear it?”

Saltash’s swarthy countenance was in shadow, but those strange eyes of his gleamed oddly, with the sort of fitful shining that comes from a coat of mail in an uncertain light.  They did not flinch from Jake’s straight regard, neither did they wholly meet it.

“Is my oath really more valuable than my word, Jake?” he said, with a wry twist of the lips.  “Most people don’t find it so.”