Virginia looked anxiously at Dick, who had been sitting with downcast eyes, and now looked up at his father.
"You needn't worry yourself about that, father," he said.
The Squire's face brightened a little.
"You mean that you think I'm right," he said. "I suppose I am. But I can't be certain of it."
"I can," said Dick. "She can disguise it as she likes; but it's blackmail. We don't pay blackmail."
There were visible signs of relief at this uncompromising statement. The Squire began to argue against it, not because he was not glad it had been made, but to justify his doubts.
"I know it's a difficult case," said Dick. "It's a most extraordinarily difficult case. The only way through it is to act on a broad principle, and stick to it through thick and thin. That's what you've done, and I'm very glad of it. You couldn't have done anything else, really, though you may think you could. Under no circumstances do we pay money to anybody to keep anything dark."
"Money was paid," said the Squire.
"I had no idea whatever," said Virginia, with frightened eyes.
"Oh, of course not," said Dick. "It wasn't your fault."