But in spite of her defiance, Peg was desperately unhappy. Her cheeks burned as she walked out of the room, her head high in the air.

She was torn between her love for Forrester and her desire to secure his happiness and her loyalty to her friend. She knew quite well what Faith must be thinking, and while she was rejoiced that at last she had succeeded in rousing her jealousy, she was bitterly ashamed of the part she had set herself to play.

She went up to her gaudy room and shut the door, standing for a moment leaning against it, her hands in her favourite position, on her hips.

What was she to do now? Would Forrester refuse to have her so summarily turned out of his house? She did not see how he could very well go against his wife's wishes.

For the first time the gaudiness of the room irritated her. It seemed a vivid reminder of the vast difference that lay between her life and Faith's. She caught up one of the peacock green cushions from an armchair and flung it at a particularly offensive looking bird in the wall-paper.

The violent action made her feel better. She opened the window wide and cooled her hot cheeks with the September breeze.

It was still quite early in the morning, and she wondered how she could occupy her time till Forrester came home. That Faith would not speak to her she was sure. She was not at all surprised to hear presently from one of the maids that Faith had gone out with Digby and was not returning to lunch.

Peg made a little grimace. This was throwing down the glove with a vengeance, but she only laughed as she turned away.

"I shan't be in either," she said, though she had no more idea than the dead what she meant to do. But she put on her hat and coat and went out.

It was a lovely morning, sunny and with just a touch of crispness in the air, as if during the night winter had passed that way and breathed on the world.

Peg wandered round the West End staring vacantly into shop windows, but her thoughts were far away. It was only when, towards one o'clock, she began to feel hungry the sudden idea came to her that she would go home.

She had only visited her own people twice since she left them at Forrester's request. There was a tingling of excitement in her veins as she climbed on to a city omnibus.

What would they say to her, she wondered. Not that she cared.

Peg had never got on with her mother, who had married again, her second husband being a man named Johnson, employed at Heeler's factory.

There were two small step-brothers, rough, red-haired little boys, too like their father for Peg to care about them. But nevertheless the house in the mean street was the only home she had known, and there was a faintly pleasurable warmth in her heart as she climbed off the bus at the corner of the street and walked the remaining few yards.

The street looked more squalid than usual to-day, she thought, not realizing that the change lay in herself. The door of the house was open, and down the narrow passage she could hear her mother's scolding voice and the sound of a well-administered box on the ears, followed by a prolonged howl from one of the boys.

Peg shivered as she walked down the passage and pushed open the kitchen door. Had she ever really been happy and contented to live in such surroundings? And fear went through her heart as she realized that before long she might have to return to them again.

The kitchen seemed full of people, though at first she could only distinguish her mother through the mist of steam that was rising from a wash-tub.

"Hullo!" Peg said laconically. She looked round for a chair, but they were all occupied, so she leaned against the door, hands on hips.

The red-haired boy who had had his ears boxed stopped howling to stare at her. Mrs. Johnson deserted the wash-tub and came forward, wiping soapy arms on a not over-clean apron.

"Well, who'd have thought of seeing you?" she said blankly.

Peg nodded carelessly to her stepfather, who had risen awkwardly to offer her a chair.

"Thanks, no—I'll stand; I only looked in for a minute." Then her face changed a little as she recognized a second man who had been lolling in the background against a crowded dresser.

"Hullo, Ben!" she said, and the colour deepened in her cheeks.

She and Ben Travers had once been very good friends. There had been a time when she had seriously contemplated taking him on trial as a sweetheart, but her friendship with Faith had put an end to it all, though Ben had never forgiven her, and Peg knew it well enough.

The last time she had seen him had been the day when Forrester came to admit his defeat and to ask her to live at his flat, and she realized with a faint sense of discomfort that she and he had grown many miles apart since then.

But he only nodded and said, "Hullo, Peg," quite unconcernedly.

There was an awkward silence, broken by Peg's mother.

"Well, you look a fine enough lady now," she said, a shade of envy in her voice. "How long's it going to last?"

"As long as I like," said Peg coolly. She was not going to tell them that already the end of her happiness was in sight.

Mrs. Johnson looked at her daughter uncomfortably.

"You'd best come in the parlour," she said. "You'll get all messed up if you stay here."

But Peg declined to move. She looked at Ben again.

"Why aren't you at Heeler's?" she asked.

He laughed sheepishly, and exchanged glances with her stepfather.

"Because we ain't, that's why," he said, significantly.

Peg's mother broke in fretfully:

"A lazy, ungrateful lot—that's what I say they are! Never satisfied! What's the use of being out of work for a few extra shillings a week and letting us all starve.... No; I shan't shut up!" she added, as her husband tried to check her flow of eloquence. "It's true, what I'm saying. You've always been treated fair at Heeler's, and never no complaints till that new manager came, but now ... nothing right! Something always wrong." She turned to Peg. "They think they've got a grudge against Mr. Heeler," she explained. "Think! They don't know, mind you! None of 'em!"

Peg's eyes dilated a little.

"There is no Mr. Heeler," she said, quickly.

Ben Travers laughed.

"She means Scammel," he explained, "or Forrester, as I dare say you call him now he's spending his money on you!" His face flushed with dull anger as he looked at her. "Fine feathers make fine birds, all right," he said laconically. "But it won't last as long as you think it will, my girl, you mark my words...." He moved away from the dresser and hitched at his collar. "Well, I'm off," he said.

Peg followed him out of the kitchen and caught his arm.

"What are you hinting at?" she asked quietly, though her heart was racing with apprehension.

She knew Ben very well—knew just how reckless and unjust he would be if anybody managed to persuade him that he really had a grievance. He tried to shake her off, but she clung to him.

"You mind your own business," he said roughly. "You threw me over for that...." He bit back an ugly word. "Well, that's your look out!"

"Ben, you're not going to do anything ... foolish!" There was a throb of fear in her voice, and he smiled grimly, "Promise me you're not going to do anything—wicked," she urged.

He turned and looked into her face.

"What's it got to do with you, eh?" he asked brutally. Then suddenly the hot blood surged in a crimson wave to the roots of his hair as he read the passionate anxiety of her eyes.

"Oh, so that's it, is it?" he asked thickly. He dragged himself free of her, his savage eyes wandering over her expensive clothes. "Well, I might have known," he said. "Women are all the same. It's always the chap with the money—no matter if he's a wrong 'un or not."

He went off down the road, deaf to her when she called his name, and Peg went back to her mother with a trembling heart.

There was some plot afoot to injure Forrester, she was sure. She questioned her stepfather, but he would admit nothing, and her mother was evidently too afraid to say anything, even if she had the knowledge.

Peg went back to Hampstead, sick with fear, though she tried hard to conquer it.

Ben would never be so foolish. She knew he was wild, but even he would surely hesitate at violence. It seemed an eternity until she heard Forrester's key in the door that evening.

He was home earlier than he had expected, he said, as she went to meet him. He looked round—"Where is Faith?"

"She went out with Mr. Digby to lunch. They haven't come back yet."

She saw the little frown that crossed Forrester's face, but he made no comment as he turned towards his study.

Peg followed. He did not want her company, she knew, but she had made up her mind to tell him of her suspicions, and nothing in the world would have prevented her.

Forrester looked round, hearing her step behind him. "I'm busy," he said. "I've a lot of writing to do. If you want to speak to me would you mind putting it off until later?"

"I must speak now," said Peg, breathlessly. She rushed at once to her point. "I went home this morning. I saw my stepfather and Ben Travers. You don't know him, but he works at Heeler's." She stopped, breathless. "Is there any trouble round there?" she asked tensely.

Forrester did not answer at once, then he said evasively:

"There has been a little discontent, but nothing serious. Travers was sacked with several others. I know the man quite well. He's an insolent young cub."

Peg flushed darkly.

"He hates you!" she said, falling into her favourite melodrama. "He would like to do you an injury—if he dared!"

Forrester smiled.

"I don't think there is any cause for alarm," he said cynically. "I am certainly not afraid of Travers."

There was an impatient dismissal in his voice, and Peg could see that he thought she was making a fuss about nothing. She wished she could think the same, but her heart was full of apprehension.

She knew the class of men her stepfather and Travers were, even better than Forrester knew, and she was about to renew her pleading when the door opened and Faith came in.

There was a little silence, then Peg laughed.

"You've got back, then," she said.

Faith did not answer, and Peg shrugged her shoulders and walked past her out of the room.

Faith shut the door and looked at her husband.

"I suppose she told you," she said breathlessly.

The Beggar Man raised his brows.

"Told me? What has she told me?"

"That I have asked her to go."

"Asked her to go?" He echoed her words with blank incredulity.

"Yes." Faith looked at him with burning eyes. Was he really surprised, or was this an arranged thing between them, she wondered.

"Yes, I ... I think I would rather live here alone," she said unsteadily.

Forrester's eyes never left her face.

"But, surely, after all Miss Fraser has done for you," he began in perplexity.

Faith flushed hotly.

"I know, but—all the same—I want her to go." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Very well—tell her so."

"I have told her," said Faith tersely.

"Well?"

"She said that she came here because you asked her. She said that you were master of the house and she would only go if you said you wished it."

She stopped, her breath coming fast. What was he going to say?

Her strained eyes saw the wave of colour that rushed to his face, and her heart contracted with bitter jealousy.

"I am sorry," Forrester said gently. "But it is quite impossible. After all that has happened, I could never ask Miss Fraser to leave the house ... even if I wished it."

"You mean that you don't wish it?" He was amazed at the intensity of her question. He could not understand the situation at all, but something in it vaguely irritated him.

"Certainly I do not wish her to go," he said.

Faith turned to the door. Her childish face was hard and determined.

Forrester rose to his feet vaguely uneasy.

"Faith, come here."

She stopped, but did not turn.

"Come here, I said, Faith."

"Well?" She faced him now.

"Do you want me to understand that you really wish Peg to go?" he asked deliberately.

It was the first time since Peg had lived with them that she had ever heard him speak of her friend by her Christian name, and Faith winced as if he had hurt her, but she answered clearly.

"Yes."

"Why?" His critical eyes searched her face.

She flushed and stammered.

"Why? Oh, well ... you see...."

He made an impatient gesture.

"If you have no real reason it's absurd to expect me to ask her to leave the house. If there is a reason...." He paused. "Faith, tell me the reason."

But she would not. How could she tell him that it was jealousy that was driving her? She would rather have died than admit to him that it hurt her intolerably to know that little by little Peg was taking the place she herself had once held in his heart.

She raised her dainty head with dignity.

"There is no reason," she said proudly. "Let her stay."

He went back to his papers.

"Very well. Then there is nothing more to be said."

Faith left him without another word. She was blind with passion as she went up to her room. She would never have believed it possible for jealousy to get such a grip of her emotions. She had believed that she hated Forrester, and it crushed her to the earth with shame to realize that now he no longer wanted her she loved him with all her heart and soul.

Later, down in the drawing-room, she slipped a note into Digby's hand as they went in to dinner.

He had no chance to read it then, but later when the two girls had left him to smoke with Forrester he found a moment.

There were only two hurriedly scribbled lines.

"I said no this afternoon when you asked me to come away with you. I have changed my mind; if you still want me I will come.—Faith."

Peter Digby crushed the little note in his hand and looked guiltily across at his friend. But Forrester had noticed nothing; he seemed absorbed in his own thoughts, and Digby rose to his feet with a little sigh of relief.

"Well, shall we join the ladies?" he asked.

Forrester raised his eyes.

"By all means, you go. I must go out again." He looked at his watch.

"Go out?" Digby echoed. "My dear chap, at this time of night?"

But he was unutterably relieved. Forrester's absence would make things so much more simple.

"Yes, I must go down to Heeler's again. I'm afraid there's going to be serious trouble there. I don't like the look of things at all."

Digby frowned.

"Why don't you cut the whole show?" he asked. "With your money you don't want to waste time bothering about a business like that. Sell it and clear out. I should, if I were in your place."

"No, you wouldn't; and I'm not going to, anyway. If they think they can scare me into running away they're mistaken. A handful of loafers!" The Beggar Man looked almost ugly in his obstinacy and contempt, and Digby shrugged his shoulders and turned towards the door.

"Well, you know your own business best, of course," he said. "But if I were you I'd cut the worry and start enjoying myself."

Forrester did not answer; there was a strange look in his eyes as he watched his friend leave the room.

He knew well enough what was going on beneath his very eyes. He had known before that afternoon when Peg tried to warn him, and he was amazed because he cared so little.

In a way, it was almost a relief to know that perhaps before long the strain of the past weeks would be lifted. Even the violence of a final snap would be preferable to the constant nerve racking uncertainty he had been suffering.

Disappointment and bitterness had set a wall about his heart, and he told himself as he looked after Digby's retreating figure that he did not care what happened.

Faith would go if she wanted to. Well, let her! He would not lift a finger to detain her.

He turned back to his papers, and Digby crossed the hall to the drawing-room where the two girls were sitting together in constrained silence.

Peg had been trying to read one of her favourite novelettes, a particularly exciting one of its kind, in which the hero had just been confronted at the altar steps with a previous wife. But she could not keep her thoughts on what she was reading. She was restless and unhappy. Her nerves seemed tightly strung, as if she were waiting for something unknown to happen.

When the door opened to admit Digby she started up with a little exclamation, laughing nervously to hide her agitation.

"Oh, it's you? You made me jump."

Digby looked past her to where Faith sat on a low stool by the fire. He wished there was some way of getting rid of Peg. He had never liked her, and he knew that she disliked him as heartily.

His entrance was followed almost immediately by a knock on the door, and Peg started up again.

"Oh, come in! Gracious! I'm all nerves to-night."

But it was only one of the maids. She looked round the room apologetically. "I thought the master was here," she said.

"He's in the study." It was Digby who answered, and the door closed again, only to re-open almost immediately.

"The master has gone out, ma'am." The girl looked at Faith. "And it's Mr. Farrow, from the factory, to see him; most urgent he says it is." Faith turned her face away.

"I don't know where he has gone," she said, in a cold little voice. "Tell Mr. Farrow."

The maid was leaving the room when Peg sprang up. She brushed past the astonished girl unceremoniously, and went straight to where Farrow, the manager of Heeler's, stood in the hall, nervously twisting his hat.

"What's the matter?" she asked, in her usual direct fashion.

Farrow knew Peg well, and had always had a queer sort of respect for her, in spite of the odd things which he knew had been said of her from time to time.

He answered without hesitating that there was trouble brewing down at the works, and that he had come to warn Mr. Forrester to stay at home that evening.

"I've warned him before," he added, in distress. "But I might as well have spoken to the wall."

Peg caught her breath with a little hard sound.

"Who is it, Ben Travers and his gang?" she asked.

"Yes. Ben had too much drink in the Green Man public-house, close by Heeler's, last night, and he talked, and I know that if Mr. Forrester's wise he will stay at home to-night."

"But he's gone already!" The words burst from Peg's lips in despair.

For a moment she stood staring at him, her handsome face quite colourless. Then she turned suddenly and rushed upstairs.

She caught up the first coat she could find, and, hatless as she was, rushed down again and out through the front door, running to overtake Farrow, who had already left the house.

She caught him up at the end of the street, breathless and panting.

"Get a taxi! Oh, how slow you are!" she broke out passionately.

She dashed out into the road, nearly getting run over in her excitement, and pulled up a slowly passing taxicab.

Farrow had recovered himself and hurriedly followed.

"It may be all bluff," he said, rather shamefacedly, as they drove away; "but I don't like the look of things, and that's a fact. And I thought it my duty to warn the guv'nor." Man-like, he hated to feel that he had made an unnecessary fuss.

Peg did not answer. Her eyes were fixed on the dark night, and her hands hard clasped in her lap. Every second seemed an eternity. The speeding cab seemed to crawl.

Presently she broke out hoarsely:

"You are sure—sure that's where he has gone—to Heeler's?"

"He told me he should go. He told me to meet him there," Farrow answered.

Peg bit her lip till the blood came.

"And you think—do you think ... they are ... waiting for him?"

"That was what it sounded like from the talk."

"Who told you?"

"The landlord of the Green Man overheard and sent for me."

Peg groaned. Her love for Forrester exaggerated the possible danger a thousandfold. She suffered tortures as they drove through the dark streets; and when at last the cab stopped close to the closed gates of Heeler's factory she flung herself from it headlong.

But the whole building was in darkness, and when she shook the padlocked gates with frantic hands they yielded nothing.

The cabman was staring at her curiously, and Peg came back to consciousness of her surroundings with a little gasping laugh.

She looked at Farrow.

"He can't have come, after all," she said faintly. Farrow shrugged his shoulders. He was beginning to feel rather foolish.

Peg spoke to him sharply.

"Pay the man, and tell him to go. What's he think he's staring at?"

She was angry and shaken; she leaned against the closed yard gates, trembling from head to foot. Suddenly she laughed.

"Well—we've had a wild-goose chase," she said dryly. "Come on, we may as well go home. I daresay Mr. Forrester went to his club after all. Come on, I say," she added angrily as Farrow did not move. "What are you waiting for?"

But she knew before he answered, for at that moment Forrester's tall figure suddenly grew out of the darkness beside them.

He was making for the smaller gate, of which Peg knew he kept a duplicate key, and which led to the offices, and with sudden impulse she darted forward and caught his arm.

"Mr. Forrester!"

The Beggar Man turned sharply and peered down at her white face.

"You! Good heavens! is anything the matter.... Faith?" His mind flew with swift apprehension to his wife.

Peg laughed bitterly.

"Oh, no, she's safe and sound enough. It's you."

"Me!" His eyes went beyond her to where Farrow stood. "Good heavens! What's the meaning of it all?" he demanded angrily. "Farrow, if you've been down to Hampstead frightening my wife...."

He turned on the man threateningly as a shrill warning scream broke from Peg, and the next instant Forrester felt himself seized violently from behind and flung backwards.

The darkness was filled with voices and shouting, and the street seemed suddenly to have grown alive with men.

It all happened so quickly that afterwards Forrester could remember no details, but, above all the din and tumult, he could hear Peg's voice raised in a wild scream of entreaty.

"Ben—Ben—for God's sake!"

The scuffle was all about him as he stood with his back to the locked gates trying to see what was happening, and to free himself of her encumbering body, but her arms were round his neck, and as by main force he tried to unclasp them and throw her aside a terrific blow fell somewhere from out of the darkness—not on him, but on the girl who clung to him so frantically; and suddenly she sagged against him and would have fallen but for his upholding arms.

There were running steps in the street, and the shrill blast of a police whistle rose above the discord as the crowd of hooligans broke and scattered in all directions, panic-stricken.

Forrester laid Peg on the pavement, still keeping his arms about her. He felt confused and dazed; he could not realize what had happened.

One of the police who had come upon the scene turned the light of his lantern on Peg's face; the blow that had struck her had torn her hair down, and it lay in a tangled mass about her white face, but her eyes were open and fixed on the Beggar Man.

"Peg! Peg!" he said hoarsely.

It was the first time he had ever called her by her Christian name, and a little smile wavered across her face.

"I—I saved your life, anyway——" she whispered weakly, and then more softly still, "It's like a novelette!" said Peg, and closed her eyes.