Collingwood glared at him.
"Telephone!" Lord Ellerdine said, also turning to Collingwood. "Did Admaston speak to you last night—on the telephone?"
"Yes," Collingwood answered.
The diplomatist was genuinely distressed. "My dear fellow," he said, "why didn't you tell us?"
"Would that have saved you from saying that you all got on to the wrong train? Collingwood lied to me. You have lied to me. Lady Attwill—well—I beg your pardon...."
Collingwood took two steps towards Peggy.
"Why should you come catechising us?" he said to Admaston, and then he stepped up to him.
The two men stood in front of each other. Admaston, with a white fire of enragement in his face, still preserved his absolute calm of poise. His hands were clasped behind his back, his whole forceful personality seemed whetted for the aggression of the other.
Collingwood, on the other hand, was panther-like and alert. He almost crouched to spring at the other. He was a little younger, infinitely more débonnaire—probably not really so physically powerful, but at least lithe, brave, and ready for anything.
The two men stood there for a moment, when Peggy ran between them. "Oh! don't!" she cried, spreading out her arms—in front of Collingwood. She seemed to fear her husband's heavy and certain onslaught.