"And now," he asked, looking at his companion, who had let down her veil, while the cab rattled quickly down the street, "what do you intend to do?"
She threw back her veil, and he was astonished to see the sudden change which had come over her. There were no tears now, and her eyes were hard and glittering, while her mouth was firmly closed. She looked like a woman who had determined to do a certain thing, and would carry out her intention at whatever cost.
"I intend to save Brian in spite of himself," she said, very distinctly.
"But how?"
"Ah, you think that, being a woman, I can do nothing," she said, bitterly. "Well, you shall see."
"I beg your pardon," retorted Calton, with a grim smile, "my opinion of your sex has always been an excellent one—every lawyer's is; stands to reason that it should be so, seeing that a woman is at the bottom of nine cases out of ten."
"The old cry."
"Nevertheless a true one," answered Calton. "Ever since the time of Father Adam it has been acknowledged that women influence the world either for good or evil more than men. But this is not to the point," he went on, rather impatiently.
"What do you propose to do?"
"Simply this," she answered. "In the first place, I may tell you that I do not understand Brian's statement that he keeps silence for my sake, as there are no secrets in my life that can justify his saying so. The facts of the case are simply these: Brian, on the night in question, left our house at St. Kilda, at eleven o'clock. He told me that he would call at the Club to see if there were any letters for him, and then go straight home."