'It's all my cursed fault—just because I'm a fierce, strong brute, who ought to be anywhere but among civilised people. I've killed the man who meant me nothing but kindness. Am I going to drag your name into the mud—to set people grinning and winking——'
'Be quiet, Hugh, and listen. I have a much clearer head than yours, poor boy. There's only one way of facing this scandal, and that is to tell everything. For one thing, I shall not let you shield that woman—we shall catch her yet. I shall not let you disgrace yourself by inventing squalid stories. Don't you see, too, that the disgrace would be shared by—by the dead man? Would that be right? And another thing—if shame comes upon you, do you think I have no part in it? We have to face it out with the truth.'
'You don't know what that means,' he answered, with a groan. 'You don't know the world.'
Sibyl did not smile, but her lips seemed only to check themselves when the smile was half born.
'I know enough of it, Hugh, to despise it; and I know you much better than you know yourself. You are not one of the men who can tell lies and make them seem the truth. I don't think my name will suffer. I shall stand by you from first to last. The real true story can't possibly be improved upon. That woman had every motive for deceiving you, and her disappearance is all against her. You have to confess your hot-headedness—that can't be helped. You tell everything—even down to the mistake about the telegram. I shall go with you to the police-station; I shall be at the inquest; I shall be at the court. It's the only chance.'
'Good God! how can I let you do this?'
'You had rather, then, that I seemed to hide away? You had rather set people thinking that there is coldness between us? We must go up tonight. Look out the trains, quick.'
'But your mother, Sibyl——'
'She is dead; she cares nothing. I have to think of my husband.'
Hugh caught her and crushed her in his arms.