"Possibly." The K.C. gathered up the tails of his morning-coat, and sat down, as though to terminate the discussion.
But the old man, gloved hands glued on the handle of the malacca, stuck to his guns. "Black's black and white's white," he rumbled dogmatically. "You won't whitewash yourself by throwing mud at your wife. I didn't want to go and see the Cavendish woman. I've always stood by my own and I always shall, so long as they stand by me. A man's first duty is to his family."
"Exactly my opinion, sir."
"Then why not act on it?" The admiral fumed. "D'you think this business is doing me any good? D'you think it's nice for Adrian, or Simeon, or Simeon's wife, to hear you talked about all over London----"
"A man has his rights and I mean to assert mine. Let London talk if it likes." Aliette's husband spoke resolutely enough, yet he was conscious of a tremor in his voice. More and more now the thought of Aliette made him feel uncertain of himself. "Let London talk!" he repeated. "My wife's made a fool of me. She and young Cavendish between them have dragged my name in the dirt. May I remind you, sir, that it's your name, too----"
"All the more reason, then, to drag it out of the dirt. You won't do that by continuing to behave"--the sailor's rage got the better of him--"like a cad."
At that, Hector Brunton forgot himself. His left hand thumped furiously on the desk. "You tell me I'm behaving like a cad, sir. What about this bastard Cavendish! What about the man who seduced my wife from her allegiance? He's the gentleman, I presume. Well--let the gentleman keep his strumpet----"
"By God, Hector"--the old man's eyes blazed,--"you are a cad."
The K.C. quaked at the red fury in his father's look. Weakly he tried to take refuge in silence; but the next words--words uttered almost of their own volition--stung him out of silence.
"Who are you to talk of keeping strumpets?"