It was such a straightforward way of coming to the point that Max, taken aback, but rather thankful that the ground was to be cleared a little, answered at once without reserve:
"I did play the spy. It was enough to make me. I saw the hansom waiting outside your door last night; the cabman mistook me for you, and told me the lady had walked away. I couldn't help putting that together with what you had told me about seeing a friend off to Liverpool, and, perhaps, going there yourself. Now, who could have helped it?"
Dudley did not at once answer. He just glanced inquiringly at the face of Max while he went on tracing the pattern on the cloth.
"You didn't see the lady," he said at last, not in a questioning tone, but with conviction.
"No."
"Well, if you had seen her you would have been satisfied that it was not her charms which were leading me astray," said he, with a faint smile. "Are you satisfied now, or do you still consider," he went on with a slight tone of mockery in his voice, "that my character requires further investigation before you can accept me for a brother-in-law?"
Max moved uneasily again.
"What rot, Horne!" said he, impatiently. "You know very well I've always wanted you to marry Doreen. I've said so, lots of times. I still say it was natural I should want to understand your queer goings-on last night. And now—and now—"
"And now that you don't understand them any better than before, you are ready to take it for granted it's all right?" broke in Dudley, with the same scoffing tone as before.
Max grew very red, began to speak, glanced at Dudley, and got up.