“There was no crime,” says he.  “But”—­frowning—­“as we are on the subject, and as you compel me to it, I——­”

“No, don’t speak. Don’t!" says she quickly.

She seems to cower away from him.  She had solicited his condemnation, yet when it came to the point she had no strength to bear it.  And after all, is she had only known, he was merely going to accuse himself of having been over-foolish when he induced Tita to ask her to Oakdean on a visit.

“As you will,” says he listlessly.  “I was merely thinking of——­”

“I know—­I know.  Of course she would make me out the worst in the world, and I have reason to know that her cousin, Miss Hescott, told you stories about me.  There was a night when——­

“When——­”

“Ah, I was wrong there.  I was merely thinking of——­”

“Wrong!” says Rylton slowly.

His thoughts have gone back to that last interview with Margaret, and what she had said about his folly in asking Marian on a visit to Oakdean, considering all that had been said and done between them in the old time.

“You remember it, then?” asks Marian.  She looks at him.  Her face is still livid, and as she speaks she throws back her head and laughs aloud—­such a cruel, hateful laugh!  “Well, I know it—­I lied.  I lied then most abominably.”

“Then?”

“That night on the balcony—­I confess it.  I know Minnie Hescott told you.”

Rylton’s mind goes quickly back.

“That night,” says he slowly, as if thinking, as if concentrating his thoughts, “the night you led me to where——­”

He hesitates.

“Does it hurt you to name her in my presence?” asks Mrs. Bethune in a tone like velvet.  “Well, spare yourself.  Let us call her ’she’—­the immaculate ‘she.’  Now you can go on with safety.”

Her tone, her sneer, so evidently directed at Tita, maddens Rylton.

“You say you lied that night,” says he, with barely suppressed fury.  “And—­I believe you.  I was on the balcony with you, and you told me then that you did not know where my wife was.  At all events, you gave me the impression that you did not know where she was.  You made me a bet—­you can’t have forgotten it—­that she was with her cousin in the garden.  I took the bet, and then you led me to the arbour—­the arbour where you knew she was.  All things seemed to swear against her—­all things save her cousin, Minnie Hescott.”

“Minnie Hescott!” Marian Bethune laughs aloud.  “Minnie and Tom Hescott!  Would a brother swear against a brother?  Would a sister give a brother away?  No.  And I will tell you why.  Because it is to the interest of each to support the other.  Minnie Hescott would lie far deeper than I did to save her brother’s reputation, for with her brother’s reputation her own would sink. I lied when I said I did not know where your precious wife was at that moment, but I lied for your sake, Maurice—­to save you from a woman who was betraying you, and who would drag you down to the very dust with her.”