Tom turned pale, for a pang of undefined fear shot through him, and his voice betrayed genuine anxiety as he answered:
"I do not know. What has happened?"
Wardour's fingers gripped convulsively his whip-handle, and the word liar had almost escaped his lips; but, through the darkness of the tempest raging in him, he yes read truth in Tom's scared face and trembling words.
"You were with her last night," he said, grinding it out between his teeth.
"I was," answered Tom, looking more scared still.
"Where is she now?" demanded Godfrey again.
"I hope to God you know," answered Tom, "for I don't."
"Where did you leave her?" asked Wardour, in the tone of an avenger rather than a judge.
Tom, without a moment's hesitation, described the place with precision—a spot not more than a hundred yards from the house.
"What right had you to come sneaking about the place?" hissed Godfrey, a vain attempt to master an involuntary movement of the muscles of his face at once clinching and showing his teeth. At the same moment he raised his whip unconsciously.