Something in the simple directness of his words made Henry lower his eyes. He threw himself into a chair and with averted head listened to what his cousin had to say.
"It's too late for Diana to find out what a blackguard you are, Henry." Henry only dropped his head lower on his hands. "I wonder if you will enter into an honest conspiracy to keep her in happy ignorance to the end," Jim continued.
"What are you driving at?" Henry asked. He almost knew the words that were to follow, but he hardly dared believe that what he surmised could be true.
"I am thinking that under certain conditions I will disappear—leave England; as secretary of the Fund my action would be practically a confession of guilt."
Jim could hardly hear the strained question that followed.
"Your conditions?"
"That you give up gambling of every kind; that you drop your mistress, shut up her establishment, and give up your other liaisons for good and all; that you make a will leaving everything you have, except what is entailed, to Diana; and that you give me a written and signed confession that you embezzled this money; that for the above considerations I consented to assume the appearance and responsibility of the guilt, and that if you do not keep the agreement you have made with me, I am at liberty to appear at any time and make known the truth."
Henry rose and stood looking silently at Jim. Vaguely he began to grasp the tremendous power of Jim's loyal love. He could find no word—the clock chimed the quarter-hour.
"Well?" Jim asked.
"It's for her, Jim—for her—I understand that, and I'll try and have the future make up for the past, so that you'll never regret this." His voice broke—he leaned towards Jim and tried to grope for the hands that he could not see—"I was a dog to say what I did, but, by God! I'll keep my part of the agreement."