"Be straightforward for once, Melville," he said peremptorily, "and tell me what you expect to get out of this? You discover something in my life which, for reasons of my own, I have kept to myself. Are you acting in good faith on behalf of this poor lady, or do you hope to turn your knowledge to your own advantage?"
"You doubtless had excellent reasons for dropping the curtain on that scene in your life," Melville said.
"And you propose to raise it unless I make it worth your while not to," said Sir Geoffrey bitterly. "I quite understand. You propose to add blackmailing to your other accomplishments."
Melville declined to grow angry.
"I have merely come to tell you your wife is starving," he observed, "and to suggest that you should help her. It is a condition that your assistance should reach her through me, for Lady Holt appears to hold her marriage in as much detestation as you do. The only thing I want to know now is whether you accept the condition and will allow me to be your envoy. If not, I shall act as I think proper. That is all. It is really very simple."
Sir Geoffrey got up languidly.
"I can do nothing to-day," he said, and Melville knew he had won. "I must write some letters, and if you will come here tomorrow I will give you some money for Lady Holt's immediate needs, and consider what steps to take for her future."
"I suppose I shall not be inconveniencing you if I stay the night here?" Melville said with admirably assumed indifference. "It will be pleasant to have a pull on the river, and will save me the double journey. I daresay Ralph can find me anything I may require."
Sir Geoffrey looked at him. His worthy nephew was losing no time in presenting a draft on account, but he affected to miss the point.
"As you please," he replied wearily; "and now I will ask you to excuse me. I must be alone."