She eyed him scornfully. “You needn't Penelope me! I said I have no use for you. A Sunday school sweetheart! Ha! I'll tell you something else, doctor, I'm not the only one who knows about your X K C stuff.”
“Mrs. Wells,” Dr. Owen spoke slowly, “are you deliberately accusing Captain Herrick of disloyalty?”
“Yes, I am.”
Herrick stiffened under this insult, white-faced, but he did not speak.
“He meant to sell this information—for money,” she added.
“My God!” breathed Christopher.
“Captain Herrick told you this?”
“Yes, he did. He said we would go abroad and live together—like millionaires. You did! You know damned well you did,” she almost screamed the words at Herrick, then she sank back on the divan exhausted, and lay still, her eyes closed.
The doctor's face was ominously set as he turned to his young friend.
“Chris, my boy, I need not tell you that I cannot believe this monstrous accusation. At the same time, I saw Mrs. Wells write down those letters that are only known to you and to me. I saw that with my own eyes—you saw it, too.”