"Oh, that!" said Wentworth. "Well, it was beginning to be time my luck turned, wasn't it? It was rank enough to be caught, but if I'd been convicted, I'd have hanged myself. Now tell me! Was it Field's brilliant defence that dazzled you into marrying him?"
She did not answer him. She turned instead and faced him in the darkness. "Burleigh! What do you mean by risk? What do you mean by being—caught? You don't mean—you can't mean—that you—that you were—guilty!"
Her voice shook. The words tumbled over each other. Her hand wrenched itself free.
"My dear girl!" said Wentworth. "Don't be so melodramatic! No man is guilty until he is proved so. And—thanks to the kindly offices of your good husband—I did not suffer the final catastrophe."
"But—but—but—" Her utterance seemed suddenly choked. She rose, feeling blindly for the door.
"It's locked," said Wentworth, and there was a ring of malice in his voice. "I say, don't be unreasonable! You shouldn't ask unnecessary questions, you know. Other people don't. For Heaven's sake, let's enjoy what we've got and leave the past alone!"
"Open the door!" gasped Violet in a whisper.
He rose without haste. Her white dress made her conspicuous in the dimness. Her cloak had fallen from her, and she seemed unaware of it.
He reached out as if to open the door, and then very suddenly his intention changed. He caught her to him.
"By Heaven," he said, and laughed savagely, "I'll have my turn first!"