alking----'

'I understand. You didn't know whether to believe or not. Just tell me,
please, what proof she offered you.'

Hugh hung his head.

'She had heard you talking--in the house--on a certain----'

He looked up timidly, and met a flash of derisive scorn.

'She heard me talking? Hugh, I really don't see much art in this. You
seem to have been wrought upon rather easily. It never occurred to you,
I suppose, to ask for a precise date?'

He mentioned the day, and Sibyl, turning her head a little, appeared to
reflect.

'It's unfortunate; I remember nothing whatever of that date. I'm
afraid, Hugh, that I couldn't possibly prove an alibi.'

Her smiling sarcasm made the man wince. His broad shoulders shrank
together; he stood in an awkward, swaying posture.

'Dear, I told her she lied!'

'That was very courageous. But what came next? You had the happy idea
of going to Wimbledon to make personal inquiries?'

'Try to put yourself in my place, Sibyl,' he pleaded. 'Remember all the
circumstances. Can't you see the danger of such a lie as that? I went
home, hoping to find you there. But you had gone, and nobody knew
where--you wouldn't be back that night. A telegram had called you away,
I was told. When I asked where you told the cabman to drive you to--the
post-office.'

'Oh, it looked very black!--yes, yes, I quite understand. The facts are
so commonplace that I'm really ashamed to mention them. At
luncheon-time came an urgent telegram from Weymouth. I sent no reply
then, because I thought I knew that you were on your way. But when I
was ready to start, it occurred to me that I should save you trouble by
wiring that I should join you as soon as possible--so I drove to the
post-office before going to Paddington.--Well, you rushed off to
Wimbledon?'

'Not till later, and because I was suffering damnably. If I
hadn't--been what would it have meant? When a man thinks as much of his
wife as I do of you----'

'He has a right to imagine anything of her,' she interrupted in a
changed tone, gently reproachful, softening to tenderness. A
Singularity of Sibyl's demeanour was that she seemed utterly forgetful
of the dire position in which her husband stood. One would have thought
that she had no concern beyond the refutation of an idle charge, which
angered her indeed, but afforded scope for irony, possibly for play of
wit. For the moment, Hugh himself had almost forgotten the worst; but
he was bidden to proceed, and