But neither of the men was any match for Maud. Within a quarter of an hour she had driven the old man from the room and reduced her husband to a palpitating jelly.
In the end the latter said hopelessly: "Very well, I'll send the money."
Maud swept triumphantly out of the room. Evan looked after her with a new eye. During the last few minutes an extraordinary suspicion had come into his mind, an incredible suspicion, but it would not down.
The wretched George Deaves played with the objects on his desk. "All very well to say I'll send it," he muttered. "But where am I going to get it? Useless to ask Papa."
Evan was silent. There was nothing for him to say.
George Deaves looked at him aggrievedly. "You think I'm wrong to send it."
"I should think it would be hard enough to send it when they had something on you, let alone when they were only bluffing."
"It is hard," whimpered the other. "I think it's a bluff myself. But suppose it isn't and the story is printed. What would I say to Maud? How could I face her?"
"It's for you to decide," said Evan.
George Deaves rapped on his desk, bit his fingers, looked out of the window, got up and sat down again. Finally he said tremulously: "Very well, I'll take a chance."