"So that stupid French girl has been frightening you," he said softly. "My dear Miss Maynard, I would not have had this happen for worlds."
"That is not an answer to my question," Violet persisted hotly. "Why did you pursue a course which may very likely get the girl into trouble? If you did it to save Mr. Chermside from unpleasantness your motive was all right, though I should have thought that a man of the world would have known that your action was very likely to have the opposite effect. If the police had been informed at once of this appointment on the marsh they would have laughed at the idea of a gentleman in Mr. Chermside's position having anything to do with the crime. But now, when they are informed of it, they will probably attach an exaggerated importance to the incident, and worry for explanations."
Travers Nugent sighed the sigh of the man who had been misunderstood. "I am glad that you give me credit for having acted from loyalty to my friend, even if you accuse me of folly," he replied.
"Why did you commit that folly?" demanded Violet, tapping her dainty shoe in imperious insistence.
The answer came as though dragged out by force and in the face of better judgment. "You leave me no option," said Nugent slowly, waving his soft white hand in a deprecatory gesture. "I took the course I did—that of persuading Louise Aubin not to rush off to the police—because—well, because——" He stopped abruptly, and then added with a strained little laugh, "I find this a difficult thing to say, Miss Maynard."
"I am waiting for you to say it," came Violet's inexorable rejoinder.
"Well, then, has it not occurred to you that if Chermside had wanted his appointment with Levison to be known to the police he would himself have informed them of it, whereas, though he was called as a witness at the inquest, he preserved silence about it?"
Violet Maynard was a beautiful woman, and she had never looked more beautiful than when she rose, majestic in her wrath, to champion the man she loved.
"Mr. Nugent," she suppressed her voice with an effort, "that implies doubt—almost accusation. I am ashamed of you. How dare you think such an impossible thing—to say nothing of putting it into words, to me of all people, who am his affianced wife!"
Nugent bowed as before an offended goddess, and a little flush came into his face—an unusual phenomenon in one whose emotions were so well controlled. "I somehow seem not to be able to express myself clearly to-night," he murmured plaintively. "You must forgive me if I point out that the suggestion—the perfectly horrible suggestion—came from you, and not from me. I was not charging Chermside with murder. The bare idea is ridiculous. I like the boy, and he brought me the best introductions from India, though personally he has not been communicative about his private affairs. I know this much, however—that he had business with Levison, as he admitted at the inquest, which he does not want to be noised abroad and mouthed over by the wiseacres of Ottermouth. I surmise that he was to meet Levison on the marsh that night to discuss that business, and I therefore deemed it advisable in his interest to suppress all publicity about the intended meeting."