‘You brute,’ he muttered.

He hit Haddo in the face with his clenched fist.  The man collapsed bulkily to the floor, and Arthur, furiously seizing his collar, began to kick him with all his might.  He shook him as a dog would shake a rat and then violently flung him down.  For some reason Haddo made no resistance.  He remained where he fell in utter helplessness.  Arthur turned to Margaret.  She was holding the poor hurt dog in her hands, crying over it, and trying to comfort it in its pain.  Very gently he examined it to see if Haddo’s brutal kick had broken a bone.  They sat down beside the fire.  Susie, to steady her nerves, lit a cigarette.  She was horribly, acutely conscious of that man who lay in a mass on the floor behind them.  She wondered what he would do.  She wondered why he did not go.  And she was ashamed of his humiliation.  Then her heart stood still; for she realized that he was raising himself to his feet, slowly, with the difficulty of a very fat person.  He leaned against the wall and stared at them.  He remained there quite motionless.  His stillness got on her nerves, and she could have screamed as she felt him look at them, look with those unnatural eyes, whose expression now she dared not even imagine.

At last she could no longer resist the temptation to turn round just enough to see him.  Haddo’s eyes were fixed upon Margaret so intently that he did not see he was himself observed.  His face, distorted by passion, was horrible to look upon.  That vast mass of flesh had a malignancy that was inhuman, and it was terrible to see the satanic hatred which hideously deformed it.  But it changed.  The redness gave way to a ghastly pallor.  The revengeful scowl disappeared; and a torpid smile spread over the features, a smile that was even more terrifying than the frown of malice.  What did it mean?  Susie could have cried out, but her tongue cleaved to her throat.  The smile passed away, and the face became once more impassive.  It seemed that Margaret and Arthur realized at last the power of those inhuman eyes, and they became quite still.  The dog ceased its sobbing.  The silence was so great that each one heard the beating of his heart.  It was intolerable.

Then Oliver Haddo moved.  He came forward slowly.

‘I want to ask you to forgive me for what I did,’ he said.

’The pain of the dog’s bite was so keen that I lost my temper.  I deeply regret that I kicked it.  Mr Burdon was very right to thrash me.  I feel that I deserved no less.’

He spoke in a low voice, but with great distinctness.  Susie was astounded.  An abject apology was the last thing she expected.

He paused for Margaret’s answer.  But she could not bear to look at him.  When she spoke, her words were scarcely audible.  She did not know why his request to be forgiven made him seem more detestable.

‘I think, if you don’t mind, you had better go away.’

Haddo bowed slightly.  He looked at Burdon.