Mr. Alington held up his hand, as if to deprecate any reply just now.
"And you accuse me of cheating clumsily, foolishly," he continued. "But can you really think I should be so tragic an ass as to come to you with my mere assertion that I did not cheat? I have given you your chance to believe me of your own free will; you have, I regret to say, refused it. I will now force you to believe me—force you," he repeated thoughtfully. "I have a witness, a person then present, who saw me withdraw those smaller counters and replace the larger."
Kit laughed, but uneasily.
"How very convenient!" she said. "What is his name?"
"Lord Abbotsworthy," remarked Alington. "I even took the precaution of calling his attention to what I had done. It was lucky I did. Ask Lord Abbotsworthy."
"One of your directors," said Kit, almost beside herself with anger, and rising from her chair.
"One of my directors, as you say," he replied, "and your friend. I need hardly remind you that your husband is another of my directors."
On the moment Jack came out of the dining-room. He cast one glance at Kit's face, took a cigarette, and strolled discreetly upstairs. When his wife was on the war-path and had not asked his alliance he did not give it.
"I shall be upstairs when you and my wife have finished your talk," he said over his shoulder to Alington. "Come and see me before you go."