“I thought she’d put a stop to it.”
“Put a stop to it with a knife, Mr. Farwell?” inquired Mr. Lambert, ferociously genial.
And suddenly there leaped from the dull eyes before him a flame of such raw agony that Mr. Lambert took a hasty and prudent step backward.
“What do you take me for? I thought she’d make him cut it out.”
“And it was absolutely essential to you that he should cut it out, wasn’t it, Mr. Farwell?”
“What?”
“You were endeavoring to persuade Mrs. Bellamy to divorce Mr. Bellamy and marry you, weren’t you, Mr. Farwell?”
Mr. Farwell sat glaring dumbly at his tormentor out of those strange eyes.
“Weren’t you?”
“Yes.” As baldly as though Mr. Farwell were stating that he had tried to get her to play a game of bridge.