But Drexley heard and shook his head.  He spoke then for the first time.

“I want a word with Jesson,” he said.  “I’m sorry I made a fool of myself.  I’m all right now.  You needn’t hold me.”

They stood away from him.  He made no movement.

“I’ve a word or two to say to Jesson in private,” he said.  “No one need be afraid of me.  You can tie my hands if you like, but it isn’t necessary.”

Cleavers, one of the members who had witnessed the assault, shook his head.

“I wouldn’t trust myself with him if I were you, Jesson,” he said.  “He’s half mad now, and for some reason or other he’s got his knife into you.  You slip off home quietly.”

Jesson looked across the room to Drexley, who was leaning against the wall with folded arms.

“Give me your word of honour, Drexley,” he said, “and I’ll hear what you have to say.”

“I give it.  I swear that I will not lay a finger upon you.”

“Come this way, then,” Jesson added.

He left the room and entered a small committee chamber nearly opposite.  Drexley closed the door but he showed no signs of excitement.

“Jesson,” he began, “I hated you once because I was the poor slave of a woman who cared nothing for me or any who had gone before me, and who from the first looked upon you differently.  I hated you from the day Emily de Reuss wrote me, and ordered me to delay your story and deny you work so that you might be driven to go to her for aid.  Then I think I became apathetic.  We drifted together, I tolerated you.  The woman I had worshipped all my life forgot to dole out to me even those few crumbs of consolation to which I had become accustomed.  It was then—­I met—­through you—­Miss Strong.”

Douglas was suddenly interested.  What had Cissy to do with it all?  He put his thought into words.

“What of that?” he asked.  “I don’t understand how I have injured you.”

“Oh, you have not injured me,” Drexley answered bitterly.  “You have simply stood between me and salvation.”

“You must speak more plainly if you want me to understand you,” Douglas said.

“There was only one thing in the world which could have saved me from this—­from myself,” Drexley continued fiercely.  “Call me what hard names you like.  I’ll accept them.  I wasted half a lifetime only to find that my folly had been colossal.  No other woman but your cousin has ever been kind to me—­she held out her hand and I seemed to see the light—­and then you must come and take her from me.”

Douglas gazed at him in blank amazement.

“Do you mean to tell me that you care for my cousin—­seriously—­would have asked her to marry you?” he exclaimed.  “Yes.”

“And she?”

“She was kind to me.  In time I should have won her.  I am sure of it.”

Douglas rose from his chair and walked restlessly up and down the room.

“Drexley,” he said, “if only I could have guessed this—­if only I could have had any idea of it!”