“You will pardon my interference,” said an ominously quiet voice from the doorway, “but may I inquire into the nature of this transaction between you and my niece, Sir Leslie?  Perhaps you had better explain it, Clara!”

They both turned quickly round.  Mannering was standing upon the threshold, the morning paper in his hand.  Clara sank into a chair and covered her face with her hands.  Sir Leslie shrugged his shoulders.

He was congratulating himself upon the discretion with which he had conducted the interview.  He had for a few moments entertained other ideas.

“Perhaps you will allow me to explain—­” he began.

“I should prefer to hear my niece,” Mannering answered, coldly.

Clara looked up.  She was pale and frightened, and she had hard work to choke down the sobs.

“Sir Leslie was down at Bristow, where I was staying—­this last week-end,” she explained.  “I lost a good deal of money there at roulette.  He very kindly took up my I.O.U.’s for me, and was offering when you came in to let it stand for a little time.”

“What is the amount?” Mannering asked.

Clara did not answer.  Her head sank again.  Her uncle repeated his inquiry.  There was no note of anger in his tone.  He might have been speaking of an altogether indifferent matter.

“I am afraid I shall have to trouble you to tell me the exact amount,” he said.  “Perhaps, Borrowdean, you would be so good as to inform me, as my niece seems a little overcome.”

“The amount of the I.O.U.’s for which I gave my cheque,” Borrowdean said, “was five hundred and eighty-seven pounds.  I have the papers here.”

There was a dead silence for a moment or two.  Clara looked up furtively, but she could learn nothing from her uncle’s face.  It was some time before he spoke.  When at last he did, his voice was certainly a little lower and less distinct than usual.

“Did I understand you to say—­five hundred and eighty-seven pounds?”

“That is the amount,” Borrowdean admitted.  “I trust that you do not consider my interference in any way officious, Mannering.  I thought it best to settle the claims of perfect strangers against Miss Mannering.”

“May I ask,” Mannering continued, “in whose house my niece was permitted to lose this sum?”

“It was at the Bristows’,” Clara answered.

“And under whose chaperonage were you?” Mannering asked.

“Lady Bristow’s!  She called for me here, and took me down last Friday.”

“Are these people who are generally accounted respectable?” Mannering asked.

“I don’t think that Bristow is much better or worse than half of our country houses,” Borrowdean answered.  “People who are at all in the swim must have excitement nowadays, you know.  Bristow himself isn’t very popular, but people go to the house.”

Mannering made no further remark.

“If you will come into the study, Borrowdean,” he said, “I will settle this matter with you.”