There was a moment's silence, then Saltash began to laugh. "My dear chap, you don't really think that! You'd like to—but you can't!"
Dick looked at him, thin-lipped, uncompromising, silent.
"You actually do?" questioned Saltash. "You really think I care a twopenny damn what anybody thinks about you or anyone else under the sun? I say, don't be an ass, Green, whatever else you are! It's too tiring for all concerned. If you really want to know who is responsible—"
"Well?" said Dick.
"Well," Saltash sent a cloud of smoke upwards, "look a bit nearer home, man! Haven't you got—a brother somewhere?"
Dick gave a sudden start. "I have not!" he said sternly.
Saltash nodded. "Ah! Well, I imagine Yardley knows him if you don't. He is the traitor in the camp, and he's out to trip you if he can." He laughed again with careless humour. "I don't know why I should give you the tip. It is not my custom to heap coals of fire. Pray excuse them on this occasion! I suppose you are quite determined to take Juliette to the meeting to-night?"
"I am quite determined to go," said Juliet quietly, as she came down the stairs. "Will you have anything, Charles? No? Then let us start! It is getting late. You are driving yourself?"
He threw open the door for her with a deep bow. "I always drive myself, Juliette, and—I always get there," he said.
Her faint laugh floated back to Dick as he followed them out.