“I’m going home, fellows.  I’m kind of sick,” Kimble said.  One of the others murmured unintelligibly, and, wetting a napkin, bound up his hand, which was bleeding.  They continued to watch Kirk as if fearful of some insane action, yet they refused to meet his eyes squarely.  There was no sympathy in their faces.

The knowledge of what these actions meant came to him slowly.  Was it possible that his friends believed this incredible accusation?  The thought made him furious, too agitated as yet to realize that such a charge made under such circumstances could not well prove less than convincing.  As he began to collect himself he saw his plight more clearly.  His first thought had been that Cortlandt was insane, but the man’s actions were not those of a maniac.  No!  He actually believed and—­and these fellows believed also.  No doubt they would continue to think him guilty in spite of all that he could do or say; for after this shocking denunciation it would take more than mere words to prove that he had not betrayed his friend and benefactor.  It was incredible, unbearable!  He wanted to shout his innocence at them, to beat it into their heads; but the more he expostulated the more distant they became.

One by one they took their hats and went out, mumbling good-night to one another, as if intending to go home singly in order to avoid all discussion of this thing that had fallen among them Runnels alone remained.

“You don’t believe I did—­that?” Anthony asked, in a strained voice.

“I—­I think I do.”  There was a miserable silence, and then:  “It isn’t the thing itself, you know, so much as the rotten—­ underhanded advantage you took.  If he’d been a stranger, now—­ Honestly, isn’t it true?”

Kirk shook his head, listlessly.  “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Runnels drew a deep breath..  “Oh, come, now, the man must have known what he was saying.  Do you realize what it means—­if—­well, if he were mistaken?  It would be bad enough if he were not, but this would be ten times worse.  Don’t you see?”

“I don’t see much of anything yet.  I’m stunned.”

“Ugh!  To make it public that way, he must be made of iron.”  Runnels shuddered; then, with cold eyes on Kirk, continued:  “He must have known, Anthony.  Men don’t do things like that on suspicion.”

“He misunderstood our friendship,” said Kirk, heavily, then roused himself for a last plea.  “Look here!” he cried.  “You know Cortlandt and you know me.  The man was insanely jealous!  I know it sounds weak, but it’s the truth, and it’s all I can say.  I’ll go mad if you doubt me.”

Runnels’ face showed the pain he felt, but his eyes looked incredulous.

“Another thing,” Kirk went on, desperately:  “do you suppose that if what you believe were true I could have the inhuman nerve to come here to-night?  That would make me a fool or a monster!”

“I don’t know,” said Runnels.