“I was not!” she said calmly.

There was a short silence.  Barrington had the air of a man who has received a shock.

“Ruth!” he exclaimed, glancing towards the door, and speaking almost in a whisper.  “Do you mean—­that there are things which I have never known?”

“Yes!” she answered.  “I mean that he might, if he chose, do us now—­both of us—­an immense amount of harm.”

Barrington sat down at the end of the sofa.  He knew his wife well enough to understand that this was serious.

“Let us understand one another, Ruth,” he said quietly.  “I always thought that you were a little severe on Wingrave at the trial!  He may bear you a grudge for that; it is very possible that he does.  But what can he do now?  He had his chance to cross examine you, and he let it go by.”

“He has some letters of mine,” Lady Ruth said slowly.

“Letters!  Written before the trial?”

“Yes!”

“Why did he not make use of them there?”

“If he had,” Lady Ruth said, with her eyes fixed upon the carpet, “the sympathy would have been the other way.  He would have got off with a much lighter sentence, and you—­would not have married me!”

“Good God!” Barrington muttered.

“You see,” Lady Ruth continued, resting her hand upon her husband’s coat sleeve, “the thing happened all in a second.  I had the check in my hand when you and Sir William came crashing through that window, and Sir William’s eyes were upon me.  The only way to save myself was to repudiate it, and let Wingrave get out of the affair as well as he could.  Of course, I never guessed what was going to happen.”

“Then it was Wingrave,” Barrington muttered, “who played the game?”

“Yes!” Lady Ruth answered quietly.  “But I am not so sure about him now.  You and I, Lumley, know one another a little better today than we did twelve years ago.  We have had a few of the corners knocked off, I suppose.  I can tell you things now I didn’t care to then.  Wingrave had lent me money before!  He has letters from me today, thanking him for it.”

Barrington was a large, florid man, well built and well set up.  In court he presented rather a formidable appearance with his truculent chin, his straight, firm mouth, and his commanding presence.  Yet there was nothing about him now which would have inspired fear in the most nervous of witnesses.  He looked like a man all broken up by some unexpected shock.

“If he had produced those letters—­at the trial—­”

Lady Ruth shrugged her shoulders.

“I risked it, anyhow,” she said.  “I had to.  My story was the only one which gave me a dog’s chance, and I didn’t mean to go under—­then.  Wingrave never gave me away, but I fancy he’s feeling differently about it now!”

“How do you know, Ruth?”

“I have seen him!  He sent for me!” she answered.  “Lumley, don’t look at me like that!  We’re not in the nursery, you and I. I went because I had to.  He’s going to America for a time, and then he’s coming back here.  I think that when he comes back—­he means mischief!”