“You’re a good husband, you are,” Harriet went on, with a sudden change to anger; “taking part against your own wife, and trying to make her out all that’s bad.  But I think you’ve had things your own way long enough.  You thought I was a fool, did you, and couldn’t see what was going on?  You and your Ida Starr, indeed!  Oh, she would be such a good friend to me, wouldn’t she?  She would do me so much good; you thought so highly of her; she was just the very girl to be my companion; how lucky we found her!  I’m much obliged to you, but I think I might have better friends than thieves and street-walkers.”

“What do you mean?” asked Julian, starting at the last word, and turning a ghastly countenance on her.

“I mean what I say.  As if you didn’t know, indeed!”

“Explain what you mean,” Julian repeated, almost with violence.  “Who has said anything of that kind against her?”

“Who has?  Why I can bring half a dozen people who knew her when she was on the streets, before Waymark kept her.  And you knew it, well enough—­no fear!”

“It’s a lie, a cursed lie!  No one can say a word against her purity.  Only a foul mind could imagine such things.”

“Purity!  Oh yes, she’s very pure—­you know that, don’t you?  No doubt you’ll be a witness, and give evidence for her, and against me;—­let everybody know how perfect she is, and what a beast and a liar I am!  You and your Ida Starr!”

Julian rushed out of the room.

Waymark could not but observe peculiarities in Mr. Woodstock’s behaviour during the conversation about Ida.  At first it had occurred to him—­knowing a good deal of Abraham’s mode of life—­that there must be some disagreeable secret at the bottom, and for a moment the ever-recurring distrust of Ida rose again.  But he had soon observed that the listener was especially interested in the girl’s earliest years, and this pointed to possibilities of a different kind.  What was it that was being taken from the drawer to show him, when the old man suddenly altered his mind?  Mr. Woodstock had perhaps known Ida’s parents.  Waymark waited with some curiosity for the interview on the morrow.

Accordingly, he was surprised when, on presenting himself, Mr. Woodstock did not at first appear to remember what he had called about.

“Oh, ay, the girl!” Abraham exclaimed, on being reminded.  “What did you say her name was?  Ida something—­”

Waymark was puzzled and suspicious, and showed both feelings in his looks, but Mr. Woodstock preserved a stolid indifference which it was very difficult to believe feigned.

“I’ve been busy,” said the latter.  “Never mind; there’s time.  She was remanded for a week, you said?  I’ll go and see Helter about her.  May as well come along with me, and put the case in ‘artistic’ form.”

It was a word frequently on Waymark’s lips, and he recognised the unwonted touch of satire with a smile, but was yet more puzzled.  They set out together to the office of the solicitor who did Abraham’s legal business, and held with him a long colloquy.  Waymark stated all he knew or could surmise with perfect frankness.  He had heard from Julian the night before of the discovery which it was said the police had made at Ida’s lodgings, and this had strengthened his fear that Harriet’s accusation was genuine.