"I am sorry," said Jake steadily. "But you are the only witness that I can call."
"And why should she accept my testimony?" said Saltash. "Evidence given, so to speak, at the sword's point, my good Bolton, is seldom worth having. Moreover, if she had seen my crazy driving last night she might have been disposed to doubt whether my own condition were above suspicion."
"I see," said Jake slowly. He still looked hard into Saltash's face, and there was that in the look that quelled derision. "In that case, there is nothing more to be said."
Saltash made him a slight bow that was not without a touch of hauteur. "I quite agree with you. It is an unprofitable subject. With Mrs. Bolton's permission I will take my leave."
He turned to her, took and pressed her hand, sent a sudden droll smile into her grave face, and walked to the door.
Jake held it open for him, but very abruptly Saltash clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Come along, man! I'm going round the Stables. I'm sorry you've got a sore head, but I'm off to town this afternoon, so it's now or never. By the way, we shall have to postpone the luncheon-party til a more convenient season. I've no doubt it's all the same to you."
He had his way. Jake went with him, and Maud drew a breath of deep relief. She felt that another private interview with her husband just then would have been unendurable.
She sat down and leaned upon the table, feeling weak and unnerved. Not till several minutes had passed did she awake to the fact that she was holding Saltash's ring--that old dear gift of his--tightly clasped within her quivering hands.
CHAPTER XXVIII
THE VISITOR