Jack Harding's grasp tightened.
"Say it," he repeated, in deadly quiet tones. "Say that all you said about that pure, good woman is a lie."
His tone was as inexorable as fate.
The Irishman's eyes grew fixed with terror, his tongue hung from his mouth, his face grew purple. Still that calm intense voice reiterating in his ear:
"Say it! Say that all you said was a lie."
Seeing Lord Kelwin's extreme danger, some one attempted to interfere. Cries were heard:
"Let them alone!"
"It's none of your funeral!"
"Jack Harding was right. Kelwin did lie, and he's a blackguard for saying what he did."
Then man after man took up the cry: