He forced the window; he rushed into the room, and there before him, pallid, trembling, agonising, stood Alma Rolfe.

‘You?’

She panted incoherent phrases.  She was here to speak with Mr. Redgrave on business —­ about her concert tomorrow.  She had not entered the house until this moment.  She had met Mr. Redgrave in the garden ——­

‘What is that to me?’ broke in Hugh, staring wildly, his fist still clenched.  ‘I am not your husband.’

’Mr. Carnaby, you will believe me?  I came for a minute or two —­ to speak about ——­’

‘It’s nothing to me, Mrs. Rolfe,’ he again interrupted her, in a hoarse, faint voice.  ‘What have I done?’ He looked to the window, whence came no sound.  ‘Have I gone mad?  By God, I almost fear it!’

‘You believe me, Mr. Carnaby?’ She moved to him and seized his hand.  ’You know me too well —­ you know I couldn’t —­ say you believe me!  Say one kind, friendly word!’

She looked distracted.  Clinging to his hand, she burst into tears.  But Hugh hardly noticed her; he kept turning towards the window, with eyes of unutterable misery.

‘Wait here; I’ll come back.’

He stepped out from the window, and saw that Redgrave lay just where he had fallen —­ straight, still, his face turned upwards.  Hugh stooped, and moved him into the light; the face was deathly —­ placid, but for its wide eyes, which seemed to look at his enemy.  No blood upon the lips; no sign of violence.

’Where did I hit him?  He fell with his head against something, I suppose.’

From the parted lips there issued no perceptible breath.  A fear, which was more than half astonishment, took hold upon Carnaby.  He looked up —­ for the light was all at once obstructed —­ and saw Alma gazing at him.

‘What is it?’ she asked in a terrified whisper.  ‘Why is he lying there?’

‘I struck him —­ he is unconscious.’

‘Struck him?’

He drew her into the room again.

’Mrs. Rolfe, I shall most likely have to send for help.  You mustn’t be seen here.  It’s nothing to me why you came —­ yes, yes, I believe you —­ but you must go at once.’

‘You won’t speak of it?’

Her appeal was that of a child, helpless in calamity.  Again she caught his hand, as if clinging for protection.  Hugh replied in thick, hurried tones.

’I have enough trouble of my own.  This is no place for you.  For your own sake, if not for your husband’s, keep away from here.  I came because someone was telling foul lies —­ the kind of lies that drive a man mad.  Whatever happens —­ whatever you hear —­ don’t imagine that she is to blame.  You understand me?’

‘No word shall ever pass my lips!’

‘Go at once.  Get home as soon as you can.’

Alma turned to go.  Outside, she cast one glance at the dark, silent, unmoving form, then bowed her head, and hastened away into the darkness.