'Not till later, and because I was suffering damnably. If I hadn't—been what would it have meant? When a man thinks as much of his wife as I do of you——'
'He has a right to imagine anything of her,' she interrupted in a changed tone, gently reproachful, softening to tenderness. A Singularity of Sibyl's demeanour was that she seemed utterly forgetful of the dire position in which her husband stood. One would have thought that she had no concern beyond the refutation of an idle charge, which angered her indeed, but afforded scope for irony, possibly for play of wit. For the moment, Hugh himself had almost forgotten the worst; but he was bidden to proceed, and again his heart sank.
'I went there in the evening. Redgrave happened to be outside—in that veranda of his. I saw him as I came near in the dark, and I fancied that—that he had been talking to someone in the room—through the folding windows. I went up to him quickly, and as soon as he saw me he pulled the window to. After that—I only remember that I was raving mad. He seemed to want to stop me, and I struck at him—and that was the end.'
Sibyl shuddered.
'You went into the room?'
'Yes. No one was there.'
Both kept silence. Sibyl had become very grave, and was thinking intently. Then, with a few brief questions, vigilant, precise, she learnt all that had taken place between Hugh and Mrs. Maskell, between Hugh and the doctor; heard of the woman's disappearance, and of Mrs Fenimore's arrival on the scene.
'What shall you do now?'
'Go back and give myself up. What else can I do?'
'And tell everything—as you have told it to me?'