'Her motive, I don't know. Pure hatred, it seemed. But I've had a strange fancy. She talked about a woman I used to know very slightly, a Mrs. Strangeways, and seemed to be in fear of her; she said that woman and I were circulating stories about her. And I have wondered—Why are you looking like that?'
'She must be mad.—I'll tell you. I only wish I had told you before. She was there that night—at Redgrave's. But for her it would never have happened. I saw him standing with her, by the window of his room—that is, I saw a woman, but it wasn't light enough to know her; and all at once she ran back, through the open French windows into the house; and then I rushed in and found her there—it was Rolfe's wife.'
'Why did you keep this from me?'
'She implored me—vowed there was nothing wrong—cried and begged. And I thought of Rolfe. I see now that I ought to have told him. The woman must be crazy to have behaved like this to you.'
Sibyl's face shone.
'Now I understand. This explains her. Oh, my dear, foolish husband! After all, you did not tell the whole truth. To spare your friend's feelings, you risked your wife's reputation. And I have been at the mercy of that woman's malice! Don't you think, Hugh, that I have had to bear a little more than I deserved? Your distrust and what came of it—I have long forgiven you all that. But this—wasn't it rather too hard upon me?'
He flinched under her soft reproach.
'I couldn't be sure, Sibyl. Perhaps it was true—perhaps she was only there——'
A flash of scorn from her eyes struck him into silence.
'Perhaps? And perhaps she meant no harm in lying about me! You will send at once for Rolfe and tell him.'