'None that I know of, until you brought me here today.'

'But you have said that you think me no better than a guilty hypocrite, and isn't it natural that I should defend myself?'

'Quite natural. You have done it very cleverly till now, and perhaps you will to the end. I feel sure there is no evidence against you, except the word of the woman who told your husband; and even if she comes forward, you have only to deny, and keep on denying.'

'Then why do you believe that woman rather than me?'

Alma answered only with a frivolous laugh. Sibyl, turning her head, looked an appeal to the listeners.

'Mrs. Rolfe,' said Hugh, in a rough, imploring voice, 'have you no other answer? You can't ruin people's lives like this, as if it were sport to you.'

Alma gazed at him, as if she had but just observed his face.

'You have gone through dreadful things,' she said earnestly. 'I'm sorry to cause you more trouble, but the fault is hers. She got that secret from you, and it delighted her. Go on believing what she says; it's the best way when all's over and done with. You can never know as _I_ do.'

She laughed again, a little spurt of joyless merriment. Upon that, in the same moment, followed a loud hysterical cry; then sobs and wailing, with movements as if to tear open the clothing that choked her. Sibyl hastened away, and returned with her vinaigrette, which she handed to Rolfe. But already the crisis was over. Alma lay back in a chair, sobbing quietly, with head bent aside.

Carnaby and his wife, after an exchange of signals, silently left the room. Rolfe paced backwards and forwards for a minute or two, until he heard his name spoken; then he drew near, and Alma looked at him with her own eyes once more.

'I won't go back home unless you wish, Harvey.'

'Do you feel able to go?'

'If you wish me. If not, I'll go somewhere else.'

He sat down by her.

'Are you yourself, Alma? Do you know what you are saying?'

'Yes--indeed I do. I know I lost myself; my head went round; but I am well again now.'

'Then tell me in a word--is there any reason why you should _not_ go home with me?'

'What's the use? You won't believe me. You can't believe me!'

He grasped her hand, and spoke imperatively, but not unkindly.

'Stop that! Answer me, and I will believe what you say.'

'There is no reason. I have done no wrong.'

'Then come, if you feel able to.'

She rose without help, and walked to a mirror, at which she arranged her dress. Harvey opened the door, and found all quiet. He led her through the pa.s.sage, out into the common staircase, and down into the street. Here she whispered to him that a faintness was upon her; it would pa.s.s if she could have some restorative. They found a four-wheeled cab, and drove to a public-house, where Rolfe obtained brandy and brought it out to her. Then, wishing to avoid the railway station until Alma had recovered her strength, he bade the cabman drive on to Notting Hill Gate.

'May I sit at your side?' she asked, bending towards him in the darkness, when they had been silent for a few minutes.

Harvey replied by changing his own place.

'I want to tell you,' she resumed, her face near to his. 'I can't wait, and know you are thinking about me. There isn't much to tell. Are you sure you can believe me?'

'I have promised that I will.'

'I don't ask you to be kind or to love me. You will never love me again. Only believe that I tell the truth, that's all. I am not like that woman.'

'Tell me,' he urged impatiently.

'I wanted to make use of Mr. Redgrave to use his influence with people in society, so that I could have a great success. I knew he wasn't to be trusted, but I had no fear; I could trust myself. I never said or did anything--it was only meeting him at people's houses and at concerts, and telling him what I hoped for. You couldn't take any interest in my music, and you had no faith in my power to make a success. I wanted to show you that you were wrong.'

'I was wrong in more ways than one,' said Harvey.

'You couldn't help it. If you had tried to make me go another way, it would only have led to unhappiness. At that time I was mad to make my name known, and, though I loved you, I believe I could have left you rather than give up my ambition. Mr. Redgrave used to invite people to his house in the summer to afternoon tea, and I went there once with a lady. Other people as well--a lot of other people. That's how I knew the house. I was never there alone until that last evening.--Don't shrink away from me!'

'I didn't. Go on, and be quick.'

'I suspected Sibyl from the moment you told me about her husband and Mr Redgrave. You did, too, Harvey.'

'Leave her aside.'

'But it was because of her. I saw she was getting to dislike me, and I thought she knew Mr. Redgrave was doing his best for me, and that she was jealous, and would prevent him--do you understand? He was my friend, nothing else; but _she_ would never believe that. And a few days before my recital he seemed to lose interest, and I thought it was her doing. Can you understand how I felt? Not jealousy, for I never even liked him. I was living only for the hope of a success. Do you believe me, Harvey?' 'Easily enough.'

Thereupon she related truly, without omission, the train of circ.u.mstances that brought her to Wimbledon on the fatal night, and all that happened until she fled away into the darkness.

'It would be silly to say I oughtn't to have gone there. Of course, I knew all I was risking; but I felt I could give my life to detect that woman and have her in my power.

'It's just that I don't understand. If it had been ordinary jealousy--why, of course----'

'Men never can understand why women hate each other. She thought herself so superior to me, and showed it in every look and word; and all the time I knew she was a wicked hypocrite.'

'_How_ did you know that?' Rolfe broke in vehemently, staring into her white face as a ray from the street illumined it.

'Oh, I can't tell you!' she replied, in a moaning, quivering voice. 'I knew it--I knew it--something told me. But I don't ask you to believe that. Only about myself--can you believe about myself?'

He replied mechanically, 'Yes.' Alma, with a sigh as much of hopelessness as of relief, lay back and said no more.

At Notting Hill Gate they waited for a train. Alma wandered about the platform, her head bent, silent and heeding nothing. In the railway carriage she closed her eyes, and Harvey had to draw her attention when it was time to alight. On entering the house she went at once upstairs.

Harvey loitered about below, and presently sat down in the study, leaving the door ajar.

He was trying to persuade himself that nothing of much moment had come to pa.s.s. A doubt troubled him; most likely it would trouble him for the rest of his life; but he must heed it as little as possible. What other course was open to a sensible man? To rave and swear in the high tragic style would avail nothing, one way or the other; and the fact was--whatever its explanation--that he felt no prompting to such violence. Two years had pa.s.sed; the man was dead; Alma had changed greatly, and was looking to new life in new conditions. His worst uneasiness arose from the hysteria which had so alarmingly declared itself this evening. He thought of Bennet Frothingham, and at length rose from his chair, meaning to go upstairs. But just then a step sounded in the hall; his door was pushed open, and Alma showed herself.

'May I come?' she asked, looking at him steadily

He beckoned with his head. She closed the door, and came slowly forward, stopping at a few paces from him.

'Harvey----'

'Well?'

'I want you to decide tonight. If you think it would be better for both of us, let me go. I shouldn't part from you unkindly; I don't mean that. I should ask you to let me have money as long as I needed it. But you know that I could support myself very soon. If you think it better, do say so, and we'll talk about it as friends.'