When she had left the room he asked himself what he could do. He felt as helpless as his wife had been a few moments before. Of course, he would break with West; but this contingency did not affect the real question between them. He might thrash the fellow; but even that would be a poor satisfaction. He clearly saw that in this matter there could be no such thing for him as satisfaction. He alone was to blame; he had brought the shame on himself by introducing to his wife a man for whom no honest man or woman could feel respect. He must take his medicine, bitter as it was.
The medicine grew more bitter as the days passed and he did nothing. West, he felt sure, would never enter his house again. When they did meet it would be in Washington, where he would let the fellow know that their business deals were at an end. There was no reason why they should not end now; he had done the work, and he had received his pay, he thought, with self-disgust. In future he should keep himself out of any such complications. West had taught him a lesson that would keep him straight for the rest of his life.
Two days before the election Michael announced a visitor. When Douglas Briggs heard the name the expression of his face changed so completely that it found a reflection in Michael’s face.
“Where is he?” Briggs asked.
“In the drawing-room, sir. Shall I ask him to step in here?”
“No.” Briggs adjusted the collar of his coat. “I’ll go in there,” he said.
As he was about to leave the room he met his wife, entering from the hall. She looked as if she were about to faint. “I saw him as I came down the stairs,” she said. She laid her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Douglas, you won’t be foolish, will you?”
He drew her hand away. She noticed that his arm was quivering. “Don’t be afraid,” he replied, impatiently. “I’ll make short work of him, and there’ll be no scene. Think of his coming here!” he added, with a bitter laugh.
She followed him into the hall. When he entered the drawing-room he closed the door behind him. West was standing in front of the mantel; he wore a long frock coat, and a pair of yellow gloves hung from one hand. On seeing Briggs he came forward, smiling, and offering his hand.
“Glad to catch you in,” he said. “I came over in a tremendous hurry. I——”