"To listen to your story," said Lawrence.
"And if I refuse to tell you any story?"
"In that case I shall ask you to listen to mine with what patience you can. I have no desire to be in the least vindictive; it is a matter of indifference to me whether you stand in the dock or not. Personally I would go out of my way to save any woman from that indignity. But if you will have it you must."
"But I do not share these views," said Charlton. "I recognise this woman now, though she no longer wears any disguise. There stands my wife's murderess. I shall never be content till the world knows that."
"I prefer to regard the lady for the present as Countess Lalage," said Lawrence. "But we can find a better place for discussion than this."
He stood aside politely for the woman to pass. She led the way in her imperious fashion as if they had been honoured guests of hers. She carried her dingy dress magnificently. In the drawing-room, Lawrence drew the blinds so that they could see better. The garish light of day shone on Leon Lalage's pale face, and disclosed the deep black lines under her splendid eyes. Only the flick and tremor of her lips betrayed her feelings. With her hands folded in her lap she waited.
"Are you not going to speak first?" Lawrence asked.
"No, I am not," came the slow reply. "Oh, you are a clever man, without doubt, and you have the air of one who holds all the cards. It will be a pleasure for me to listen to what you have to say."
Charlton rose; the woman's coolness and nerve were inflammable to him.
"I cannot stay here," he cried. "That woman maddens me. It brings back all the recollections that I am trying to forget. I shall forget myself----"