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 At least, it happened in this out-of-the-way corner of the world, where it could never be known to anybody—for he did not count his acquaintances in the country as anybody, unless—perhaps—Madame Koller. At that he grew pale for the first time. He really wanted Madame Koller's money. But, in fact, he was somewhat dazed by Pembroke's way of settling the trouble. It really shocked his ethics to see one gentleman punish another as if he were a bargeman or a coal heaver. These extraordinary Anglo-Saxons! But one thing was plain with him—if he did not remain perfectly quiescent Pembroke was quite capable of throwing him bodily out of the window—and if he had lost his honor, as he called it, there was no reason why he shouldn't save his bones.

Pembroke, however, although he would have sworn that nothing Ahlberg could do in the way of rascality could surprise him, was as yet amazed, astounded, and almost puzzled by the promptness with which Ahlberg acquiesced in the status which Pembroke established. Ahlberg made no protest of innocence—he did not bluster, or grow desperate, or break down hysterically, as even a very bad man might under the circumstances. He simply saw that if he said anything, he might feel the weight of Pembroke's arm. Nothing that he could have said or done was as convincing of his thorough moral obtuseness as the way in which he accepted his own exposure.

Just then the landlord opened the door. "Mr.