"A right!" flashed Bunny.
"Yes, a right." Saltash's voice was suddenly and suavely confident. "You may forget—or possibly you may remember—that I gave my protection to Nonette on the day she came to me for it, and I have never withdrawn it since. What matters to her—matters to me."
"I see." Bunny stood stiffly facing him. "I am responsible to you, am I?"
"That is what I am trying to convey," said Saltash.
The fire in Bunny's eyes leapt high for a moment or two, then died down again. Had Jake been his opponent, he would have flung an open challenge, but somehow Saltash, with whom he had never before striven in his life, was less easy to resist. In some subtle fashion he seemed able to evade resistance and yet to gain his point.
He gained his point on this occasion. Almost before he knew it, Bunny had yielded.
"I am going to her," he said, "to ask her for the whole truth—about her past."
"Is any woman capable of telling the truth to that extent?" questioned
Saltash.
"I shall know if she doesn't," said Bunny doggedly.
"And will that help?" The note of mockery that was never long absent from his voice sounded again. "Isn't it possible—sometime—to try to know too much? There is such a thing as looking too closely, mon ami. And then we pay the price."