"You have divined that?"
The sneer had left him; amazement, incredulity took its place. David must have heard some idle rumour. He asked him at once if it were not so.
"I have heard nothing."
"On your oath?"
"Certainly—if you wish it."
Mark paced the length of the shelter; then he turned and approached David, who was watching him. When less than a yard separated them Mark stood still and pulled his watch from his pocket.
"It is now two o'clock," he said. "At half-past six this afternoon I meet the woman I love and who loves me at Charing Cross. To-night—we leave England—together."
The relief of speech was immense, but with this, and dominating it, was the fierce desire to confront David with the truth, to invite his arguments, so as to trample on them.
David said hoarsely: "The woman is your brother's wife. You—you—Mark Samphire, the man I thought so strong, will do this shameful thing? Impossible!"
Mark laughed.