“For what in particular?  The innocent deception practised upon an equally innocent public?  Or for something more serious than that?”

There was an unmistakable ring of sternness behind Wingarde’s deliberately scoffing tone.

Archie answered him instantly, with the quickness of a man who fights for his honour.

“For something more serious,” he said.  “It’s nothing to me what fool trick you may choose to play for your own amusement.  But I am not going to swallow an insult from you or any man.  I want an explanation for that.”

Wingarde stood with his back to the light and looked at him.

“In what way have I insulted you?” he said.

“You implied that I was not a suitable escort for your wife,” Archie said, forcing himself to speak without vehemence.

Wingarde raised his eyebrows.

“I apologize if I was too emphatic,” he said, after a moment.  “But, considering the circumstances, I am forced to tell you that I do not consider you a suitable escort for my wife.”

“What circumstances?” said Archie.  He clenched his hands abruptly, and Wingarde saw it.

“Please understand,” he said curtly, “that I will listen to you only so long as you keep your temper!  I believe that you know what I mean—­what circumstances I refer to.  If you wish me to put them into plain language I will do so.  But I don’t think you will like it.”

Archie pounced upon the words.

“You would probably put me to the trouble of calling you a liar if you did,” he said, in a shaking voice.  “I have no more intention than you have of mincing matters.  As to listening to me, you shall do that in any case.  I am going to tell you the truth, and I mean that you shall hear it.”

He strode to the door as he spoke, and locked it, pocketing the key.

Wingarde did not stir to prevent him.  He waited with a sneer on his lips while Archie returned and took up his stand facing him.

“You seem very sure of yourself,” he said in a quiet tone.

“I am,” Archie said doggedly.  “Absolutely sure.  You think I am in love with your wife, don’t you?”

Wingarde frowned heavily.

“Are you going to throw dust in my eyes?” he asked contemptuously.

Archie locked his hands behind him.

“I am going to tell you the truth,” he said again, and, though his voice still shook perceptibly there was dignity in his bearing.  “Three years ago I was in love with her.”

“Calf love?” suggested Wingarde carelessly.

“You may call it what you like,” Archie rejoined.  “That is to say, anything honourable.  I was hard hit three years ago, and it lasted off and on till her marriage to you.  But she never cared for me in the same way.  That I know now.  I proposed to her twice, and she refused me.”

“You weren’t made of money, you see,” sneered Wingarde.

Archie’s fingers gripped each other.  He had never before longed so fiercely to hurl a blow in a man’s face.