It was his last throw for this man's salvation.
"I believe you," the painter said.
He returned to the fireplace, and leaned his face on his arm against the mantelpiece.
"I believe you," he repeated presently. "I have been mistaken."
"Mistaken—how?"
"Sometimes I have thought that you have lied to me."
Uniacke's heart grew heavier at the words.
In the morning Sir Graham said to him, with a curious calmness:
"I think perhaps you are right, Uniacke. I have been considering your words, your advice."
"And you will take it?" Uniacke said, with a sudden enormous sense of gratefulness.