tripped even of pride, Val stood up
before them all as if before a firing party, for the others had
involuntarily fallen back leaving him alone. . . . To Lawrence
the silence seemed endless, it went on and on, while through the
open doorway grey shadows crept in, the leafy smell of night and
the liquid river-murmur so much louder than it could have been
heard by day. Suddenly, as if he could not stand the strain any
longer, Val covered his eyes with his hands. The movement, full
of shame galvanized Lawrence into activity. But he had not the
courage to approach Val. He had but one desire which was to get
out of the house.

"Bernard, if you weren't a cripple I'd put the fear of God into
you with a stick" He stood near the door eyeing his cousin with
a cold dislike more cutting than anger. "You're as safe as a
woman. But I'm through with you. I'll never forgive you this,
never. I'm going: and I shall take your wife with me." He
turned. "Come, Laura--"

"Take care, Lawrence!" cried Isabel.

She spoke too late. Bernard's hand was already raised and a
glint of steel shone between his fingers. No one was near enough
to disarm him. Unable to move without exposing Laura, Lawrence
mechanically threw up his wrist on guard, but the trick of
Bernard's left-handed throw was difficult to counter, and
Lawrence was bracing himself for a shock when Val stepped into
the line of fire. Selincourt uttered an exclamation of horror,
and Val reeled heavily. "For me!" said Lawrence under his
breath. He was by Val in a moment, bending over him, tender and
protecting, an arm round his shoulders. "Are you hurt, Val?
What is it, old man?"

Stafford had one hand pressed to his side. "He meant it for
you," he said, grimacing over the words as if he had not perfect
control of his facial muscles. "Take care. Ah! that's better."
Selincourt with a sweep of his arm had sent the remaining
contents of the swing-tray flying across the floor. There was no
need of such violence, however, for the devil had gone out of
Bernard Clowes now. Deathly pale, his eyes blank with startled
fear, his great frame seemed to break and collapse and he turned
like a lost child to his wife: Laura--Laura . . ."

"I'm here, my darling." In panic, as if the police were already
at the door, Laura fell on her knees by the low couch. Come what
might he was still her husband, still the man she loved, to be
defended against the consequences of his own acts