A sudden softness came into her hearer's eyes. That was true at any rate. She must know many things of which she could not speak; a sort of horror at what she must know, with a man like Major Erlton as her husband, held him silent.
"Yet I have saved him so far," she went on, "but if what happened yesterday becomes public property all my trouble is in vain. He will have to leave the regiment----"
"He is not the first man, as you were kind enough to mention just now," interrupted James Greyman, "who has had to leave the army under a cloud. He would survive it--as others have done."
"I was not thinking of him at all," she replied quietly. "I was thinking of my son; my only son."
"There are other only sons also, Mrs. Erlton," he retorted. "I was my mother's, but I don't think the fact was taken into consideration by the court-martial. Why should I be more lenient? You have come to the wrong person when you come to me for charity or consideration. None was shown to me."
"Perhaps because you did not need it," she said quickly.
"Not need it?"
"Many a man falls under the shadow of a cloud blamelessly. What do they want with charity?"
He rose swiftly and so, facing the light again, stood looking out into it. "I am obliged to you," he said after a pause. "Whether you are right or wrong doesn't affect the question from which we have wandered. Except--" he turned to her again with a certain eagerness--"Mrs. Erlton! You say you are prepared to tell the truth to the bitter end; then for Heaven's sake let us have it for once in our lives. You never saw me before, nor I you. It is not likely we shall ever meet again. So we can speak without a past or a future tense. You ask me to save your husband from the consequences of his own cheating. I ask why? Why should I sacrifice myself? Why should I suffer? for, mark you, there were heavy bets----"
"There are the diamonds," she interrupted, pointing to them; their gleam was scarcely brighter than her scornful eyes.