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‘And you have not done it, Cassius,’ said Flavia. ‘We cannot go so far from the facts.’

‘Did you confess the truth?’ said Catherine to Cassius, in a tone that seemed to come from their life together.

‘Go on with your tale, my boy,’ said Mr Clare. ‘It is no one else’s.’

‘Well, no, I did not,’ said Cassius, with a little laugh. ‘I meant to carry the matter through and let the deception do its work. And I hope in a measure it has done it. But Toby found the bottle with the tablets that were left, and the number told their tale and exposed his father.’

‘You put it well, my boy,’ said Mr Clare.

‘Yes, well, I can put things into words when I like,’ said his son, in a modest tone. ‘I can express myself when there is need. I seem to be able to. I don’t know if it is true of everyone.’

‘No one must talk of this outside the house,’ said Flavia.

‘No, it would swell to all kinds of proportions,’ said Cassius, as if not averse to the idea. ‘I should be said to have put an end to myself ten times over.’

‘You would be said to have tried to do so once,’ said Mr Clare. ‘No doubt you will be. And it is at once better and worse than the truth.’

‘The subject will be rife in the place for the next weeks,’ said his son. ‘Then it will die away. One cannot expect to be a hero — to be on people’s tongues for ever. It will remain with me, as our moments of danger do remain. And it was a moment of danger, Flavia, however much you look at me. You will never know how near I was to the end.’

‘It is you who seem not to know,’ said his father.

‘We have all been near to things that are beyond us,’ said Flavia, ‘in the sense that we imagine ourselves doing them, without any intention of it. And it is not very near. We have all stood on the edge of a cliff and pictured ourselves going over.’

‘I stood on the edge,’ said Cassius.

‘Poor Father!’ said Toby, pausing to look at him.

‘Yes, poor Father! No one seems to know how poor he is. There are unkind faces on every side. Well, Fabian, you are wearing a dark expression. What do you think of what has happened?’

‘I can’t help being surprised, Father.’

‘And shocked?’ said Cassius.

‘Well, yes, I suppose I am.’

‘By what you thought had happened, or by what has?’

‘It is a different kind of feeling. I think more by the pretence.’

‘So you are as straight as a die, are you? You could never leave the narrow path. And Guy is of the same mind. He could not be anything else.’

‘I could, but I do think the same about this.’

‘And what does Megan think? She has a mind of. her own.’

‘Well, it was not very honest. I think everyone’s mind would be the same.’

‘Oh, you are a set of little, literal creatures! Would you rather be without a father than have one who had made a mistake?’

‘No, but we would rather have the usual kind of father.’

‘It wasn’t a mistake,’ said Henry. ‘It was meant to be a lasting deceit.’

‘Deception,’ said Cassius, easily. ‘So you are equally disturbed. You think I acted a lie?’

‘Well, I can’t help seeing you did. And you would be angry if we did it.’

‘I don’t think there has been much wrong with our training,’ said Cassius, smiling at Flavia, as though the situation were an easy one. ‘But I don’t think I was so cold and conventional when I was a child.’

‘So you are the perfect example,’ said Mr Clare.

‘There are better things than perfection, my dear old father. Things that have their place in the imperfection of human life. The things that I would have chosen to have, that I shall miss until I go to my grave.’

Guy and Megan looked at their father with compassion.

‘My little son and daughter!’ said Cassius, holding out his arms. ‘Father knows what you feel. You have sound hearts beneath the surface they have imposed on you. Father understands.’

Fabian and Henry regarded the scene in resignation, and Toby came up and surveyed it.

‘Come, my boy, you have made enough trouble,’ said Mr Clare

‘My little ones,’ went on Cassius, his arms still open. ‘I admit this is a comfort to me. I am glad to see tears in my children’s eyes for their father.’

‘I would rather see something other than tears,’ said Flavia.

‘Well, I would not, when tears are the right thing, the proper tribute to other people and to them. If these are a tribute to me, I take it as such and welcome it. It shows them at their best, and shows me what they are. Why, Ainger, I did not see you. Have you been moving about in the room all the time?’

Ainger gave a faint start, as if he had been doing this in solitude.

‘So you have been a witness of a family scene. Well, it is not the first time.’

‘I beg your pardon, sir?’ said Ainger, pausing as if interrupted.

‘It would be no good to keep anything from you. But it need not go through the house.’

‘That is not the destination of what is reposed in me, sir. But would not the truth be better than what has passed for it?’

‘Oh, you have been here as long as that, have you?’

Ainger flicked a duster over a table and looked with a faint frown at the result.

‘You mean that the pretence I made is better than a real attempt at the same thing.’

‘It is of an easier nature sir.’

‘Yes, I suppose it is. People don’t seem to take to the idea of not seeing me in my place. I suppose I have filled it in my own way. I don’t know what made me do such a thing. I hardly know what word to use.’

‘It was impetuous, sir,’ said Ainger, not himself at a loss.

‘Yes, I lost my head as anyone might, and the drug was there. Do as you will about making it known. You may use your own judgement.’

‘I have already used it as I have implied, sir,’ said Ainger, putting cigars at his master’s hand before leaving the room with a smothered eagerness.

‘Dear Ainger!’ said Toby, looking after him.

‘He is a good friend,’ said Cassius.

‘You make too much of a friend of him,’ said Flavia.

‘Too much of a friend?’ said her husband, with lifted brows. ‘How can I have too much of such a thing? I have little enough in my life.’

‘There is nothing he does not know.’

‘And too much that he may know, Flavia?’ said Cassius, just smiling at her and shaking his head. ‘Ah, we both have things we are not proud of. It is not all on my side.’

‘It is a mistake to ignore conventions. There is always a reason behind them.’

‘I have never been bound by things.’

‘But it is a pity to be blind to them.’

‘Blind?’ said Cassius, leaning back and looking before him. ‘Ah, there is too much blindness in the world, too much in this house, and to deeper things than conventions.’

Ainger recollected himself at the kitchen door and entered with his hand on his chin and his eyes down.

‘Well, is there anything to tell?’ said Madge, interpreting the signs.

Ainger just glanced at her and did not move his hand.

‘Well, what is it, Mr Ainger?’ said Kate.

Ainger spared another glance.

‘Put it into plain words,’ said Halliday.

‘I will do so, if I resort to words.’

‘And what is there against that?’

‘I am weighing the reasons,’ said Ainger, and continued to do so.

‘Are you at liberty to make the disclosure?’ said Kate.

‘If I were not, should I be debating the point? It would be foregone.’

‘You can feel the matter is in your hands?’

‘It has been put into them, Kate.’

‘By the master?’

‘Now, Kate, with whom else am I on that footing?’ said Ainger, with a smile.