“It really doesn’t particularly matter,” said Urquhart, “whether the informant was you or some other of my acquaintances.  I daresay my gyp is responsible for the story of the actresses I brought down to the St. Gabriel’s dance; he knew about it at the time, I believe.  I am not in the least ashamed of that either; the ‘Berkshire Press’ is extremely welcome to it, if it can find space for it....  Well, now, will you both stay the night with me, or must you get back?  The last good train goes at 10.5, I think.”

Peter said, “Come along, Hilary.”

Urquhart stood and watched them go.

As they turned away, he said, in his gentle, inexpressive voice, that hadn’t been raised in anger once, “Can I lend you any money, Peter?”

Peter shook his head, though he felt Hilary start.

“No, thank you.  It is very good of you....  Good night.”

“Good night.”

Going out of the room, they came face to face with Lord Evelyn Urquhart coming in.  He saw them; he stiffened a little, repressing a start; he stood elaborately aside to let them pass, bowing slightly.

Neither Margerison said anything.  Hilary’s bow was the stage copy of his own; Peter didn’t look at him at all, but hurried by.

The servant let them out, and shut the hall door behind them.

Lord Evelyn said to his nephew in the library, swinging his eye-glass restlessly to and fro, “Why do you let those people into your house, Denis?  I thought we had done with them.”

“They came to call,” said Denis, who did not seem disposed to be communicative.  “I can’t say why they chose this particular hour.”

Lord Evelyn paced up the room, restless, nervous, petulant.

“It’s monstrous,” he said querulously.  “Perfectly monstrous.  Shameless.  How dare they show their faces in this house?...  I suppose they wanted something out of you, did they?”

Denis merely said, “After all, Peter is my cousin by marriage, you must remember.  And I have never broken with him.”

Lord Evelyn returned, “The more shame to you.  He’s as great a swindler as his precious brother; they’re a pair, you can’t deny that.”

Denis didn’t attempt to deny it; probably he was feeling a little tired of the Margerisons to-night.

“I’m not defending Peter, or his brother either.  I only said that he’s Lucy’s cousin, and she’s very fond of him, and I’m not keen on actually breaking with him.  As to the brother, he’s so much more of an ass than anything else that to call him a swindler is more than he deserves.  He simply came here to-night to play the fool; he’s no more sense than a silly ass out of a play.”

That was what Peter was telling Hilary on the way to the station.  Hilary defended himself rather feebly.

“My good Peter, we must have money.  We are in positive want.  Of course, I never meant to proceed to extremities; I thought the mere mention of such a threat would be enough to make him see that we really were desperately hard up, and that he might as well help us.  But he doesn’t care.  Like all rich people, he is utterly callous and selfish....  Do you think Lucy would possibly give us any help, if you asked her?”