Part 36

“I WAS alone. Until-- It was an accident. On my walk I was alone.”

But he flinched before her accusing, her almost triumphant, forefinger.

From the instant she heard of them she hated these South Harting people unrestrainedly. She made no attempt to conceal it. Her valiant bantam spirit caught at this quarrel as a refuge from the rare and uncongenial ache of his secession. “And who are they? What are they? What sort of people can they be to drag in a passing young man? I suppose this girl of theirs goes out every evening--Was she painted, Poff?”

She whipped him with her questions as though she was slashing his face. He became dead-white and grimly civil, answering every question as though it was the sanest, most justifiable inquiry.

“Of course I don't know who they are. How should I know? What need is there to know?”

“There are ways of finding out,” she insisted. “If I am to go down and make myself pleasant to these people because of you.”

“But I implore you not to.”

“And five minutes ago you were imploring me to! Of course I shall.”

“Oh well!--well!”

“One has to know SOMETHING of the people to whom one commits oneself, surely.”

“They are decent people; they are well-behaved people.”

“Oh!--I'll behave well. Don't think I'll disgrace your casual acquaintances. But who they are, what they are, I WILL know....”

On that point Lady Marayne was to score beyond her utmost expectations.

“Come round,” she said over the telephone, two mornings later. “I've something to tell you.”

She was so triumphant that she was sorry for him. When it came to telling him, she failed from her fierceness.

“Poff, my little son,” she said, “I'm so sorry I hardly know how to tell you. Poff, I'm sorry. I have to tell you--and it's utterly beastly.”

“But what?” he asked.

“These people are dreadful people.”

“But how?”

“You've heard of the great Kent and Eastern Bank smash and the Marlborough Building Society frauds eight or nine years ago?”

“Vaguely. But what has that to do with them?”

“That man Morris.”

She stopped short, and Benham nodded for her to go on.

“Her father,” said Lady Marayne.

“But who was Morris? Really, mother, I don't remember.”

“He was sentenced to seven years--ten years--I forget. He had done all sorts of dreadful things. He was a swindler. And when he went out of the dock into the waiting-room-- He had a signet ring with prussic acid in it--...”

“I remember now,” he said.

A silence fell between them.