"I shall come round to you this evening as soon as the Court's decision has been given," he said.
Wolff looked up quickly.
"If you don't mind, I would prefer to come to you," he said. "And if I might, I will stay the night at your house. It would be better. I do not want my wife to know anything of what is to happen."
"But—Menschenkind! She must know!"
"She suspects nothing. You forget—she is not one of us. She does not understand."
Seleneck stared thoughtfully in front of him, pulling his moustache as though a prey to some painful uneasiness.
"Of course I hope the very best for you, Wolff," he said, at last, "but you are a big man, and unlucky accidents happen. It would be pretty hard on your wife if she knew nothing and——"
"It would be a shock," interrupted Wolff quietly. "I know that. Believe me, though, what I have arranged is for the best. She would not understand."
Seleneck asked none of the questions that were burning the tip of his tongue. A natural delicacy, above all, his comrade's face, held him silent, and it was Wolff who continued after a moment:
"In the event of what you call an 'unlucky accident' my wife will, of course, return to her own country. Her brother is starting for England to-morrow, so that she will be able to accompany him. But in any case—whether I fall or not—I beg of you to do your utmost to shield her from all trouble—and scandal. She is innocent—absolutely innocent. I know—you cannot hide it from me—that you and all the rest blame her. She is not to be blamed because she married a man not of her own people. She is to be profoundly pitied. That is all, and it explains everything."