“ ‘Have you had any supper, Sir Edward?’ said Ruth calmly, and with her hand on his arm she swept past her husband, completely ignoring both him and the girl, who flushed angrily.
“ ‘I suppose,’ said Violet Seymour to me, as Granger and the girl went into the reception-room, ‘that had Ruth shot that filthy blackguard dead on the stairs, Sir Edward would have piously folded his hands and, in due course, sentenced her to death.’
“And at the moment I certainly sympathised with her point of view.”
The Barrister got up and splashed some soda-water into a glass. Then he continued:
“I won’t weary you with an account of the rest of the reception. You can imagine for yourselves the covert sneers and whisperings. I want to go on two or three hours to the time when the guests had gone, and a white-faced, tight-lipped woman was staring at the dying embers of a fire in her sitting-room, while I stood by the mantelpiece wondering what the devil to do to help. Granger was in his study, where he had retired on the departure of Miss Jones, and I, personally, had seen two bottles of champagne taken to him there by one of the footmen.
“ ‘It’s the end, Bill,’ she said, looking at me suddenly, ‘absolutely the end. I can’t go on—not after to-night. How dared he bring that woman here? How dared he?’
“Violet had been right—the break had come. Ruth Granger was desperate, and there was an expression on her face that it wasn’t good to see. It put the wind up me all right.
“ ‘Go to bed, Ruth,’ I said quietly. ‘There’s no good having a row with Granger to-night; you can say what you want to say to-morrow.’
“And at that moment the door opened and her husband came in. As I said, he was a man who never got drunk, but that night he was unsteady on his legs. He stood by the door, swaying a little and staring at her with a sneer on his face. He was a swine sober; in drink he was—well, words fail. But, by God! you fellows, she got through him and into him until I thought he was going to strike her. I believe that was what she was playing for at the time, because I was there as a witness. But he didn’t, and when she finished flaying him he merely laughed in her face.
“ ‘And what about your own damned lover, my virtuous darling?’ he sneered. ‘What about the upright judge whom you adore—dear, kind Edward Shoreham?’