Max nodded. "I have. Drink first, and then I will tell you. That's the way. You needn't be in a hurry. You were going to tell me about that disagreement, weren't you? At least, I think you were. You have been rash enough to trust me before."
"But naturally," Bertrand said. He handed the glass back with a courteous gesture of thanks. "And I have not had cause to regret it. I will tell you why I disagreed with Mr. Mordaunt if you desire to know. It was because he found that he had been robbed, and that I"—he spread out his hands—"was the robber."
Max stared. "Found that you had robbed him! You!"
Bertrand nodded several times, but said no more.
"I don't believe it," Max said with conviction.
Bertrand smiled rather ruefully. "No? But yet the evidence was against me. And me, I did not contradict the evidence."
"I see. You were shielding someone. Who was it? Rupert?"
At Bertrand's quick start Max also smiled with grim humour. "You see, I know my own people rather well. I'm glad it wasn't Chris, anyway. Then she had nothing at all to do with your quarrel with Trevor?"
"Nothing," Bertrand said—"nothing." He paused a moment, then added, with something of an effort, "But I had decided that I would go before that. Mr. Mordaunt did not know why."
"Because of Chris?" There was a touch of sharpness in Max's voice.