"If he appeared again it would have to be refunded?"
"If it could be, child."
"If it couldn't?"
"Then the story, the black story of why it was wanted, would have to come out; and—and—Esther, is the door locked? Come close, Essie. Your old father and my master would end our days in penal servitude."
"Now I see," said Esther.
She did not scream nor utter any loud exclamation, but began to pace softly up and down the room. Mentally she was a strong girl; her calm in this emergency proved her mettle.
After a few moments Helps began to speak; his words were wild and broken.
"Over and over I thought I'd rather," he said. "Over, and over, and over—when I saw what it meant for him, poor young gentleman. But I can't, Essie, I can't. When it comes to the pinch I can't do it. We thought he was dead, my master and I, and my master he went off his head. And over he said, yes, over and over—'Helps, a clean cell and a clean heart would be heaven to this.' But, bless you, Essie, he couldn't stand it either at the pinch. We thought Mr. Wyndham lying under the sea. Oh, poor young gentleman, he had no right to come back."
"No right? He has a wife and a child."
"A widow and orphan, you mean. No, Esther, he should have stayed away. He made a vow, and he should have stuck to it."