She knelt beside his chair, and rested her elbows on the arm, studying his pale set profile. His eyes met hers no longer.
"I am," he admitted; "but that's my own fault. As I say—it's nothing new!"
"Who was the lawyer?"
"You wouldn't know him."
"I mean to know who he was. Mr. Cripps?"
Jack did not answer. He rolled his head from side to side against the back of the chair. His eyes remained fast upon the opposite wall.
"It is—the old trouble," Olivia whispered. "The trouble of two nights ago!"
His silence told her much. The drops upon his forehead added more. Yet her voice was calm and undismayed; it enabled him at last to use his own.
"Yes!" he said hoarsely. "Claude made a mistake. It was true after all!"
"Hunt's story, darling?"