"You declared that Lesbia stole it," said Mrs. Walker grimly, "and now you say that two thieves----"
"Lesbia was in league with them."
George sprang to his feet. "That's wholly false, Lady Charvington. That is----" he became aware of his rudeness and stammered, "you--you must be mistaken."
"I am never mistaken," said the visitor in icy tones. "Your son has not very good manners, Judith."
"They are my manners," said Mrs. Walker fiercely, "and don't you find fault with them. He has only said what I intended to say, only more politely."
Before Lady Charvington could snap out a reply, George, now very pale, intervened. "Perhaps, madam, you will explain upon what grounds you base this charge against Miss Hale."
"Oh, certainly," rejoined Lady Charvington sharply, "the whole world might know what I have to say, and the whole world would," she added spitefully, "only my husband, who seems to have taken a fancy to this girl, has hushed up the matter."
"He has more sense than you have," muttered Mrs. Walker, "badly as he treated----" she checked herself with a side glance at George, "but that is neither here nor there. Go on, Helen, and explain."
Lady Charvington, in order to make George writhe--for she saw that he loved Lesbia deeply, and resented the fact--was only too ready to give details of the robbery at The Court with all the venom of which her very bitter tongue was capable. She related everything that had happened from the hour of Lesbia's arrival, to the moment of her departure. "And in disgrace," ended the lady exultingly, "certainly private disgrace, since for some silly reason Charvington made me hold my tongue, but disgrace nevertheless. Now what do you think?"
"Think"--George, standing with a white face and clenched hands, took the words out of his mother's mouth--"I think that you are a very wicked woman, Lady Charvington. Lesbia is as innocent as a dove."