"There is one thing I wanted to ask you, Pendleton," he went on, after a moment's pause. "I trust that you won't misunderstand—that you'll take it in the right way."
"Certainly, I'll take it in the right way," Pendleton answered heartily.
He knew what was coming and was ready to meet it. Porshinger had not raised his voice in vain; though what he had intended for a threat was a warning also.
"I want you to explain," said Lorraine, "what Porshinger meant when he said, just before he went off with the constable: 'I'm not in Amherst's class, but your dear friend Pendleton is—if you doubt it, you might ask him what your wife and he were doing on the Criss-Cross piazza, one night about five weeks ago.'—Don't imagine that I believe the scoundrel's insinuation for an instant—that you and Stephanie were guilty of even the most trifling indiscretion. I trust you, Pendleton—you're not one to be swept away by passion or sentiment—and I think that Stephanie has had enough to steady her permanently. Yet what did he mean? Was it just thrown out for viciousness, or was there something happened at Criss-Cross which his vile brain distorted into vileness? Can you guess—can you imagine what basis in fact he could have?"
"My dear Lorraine, no basis in fact I can assure you," Pendleton answered very quietly. "I've been at Criss-Cross several times within the last five weeks when Stephanie was there. I was alone with her on the piazza repeatedly, by day and in the evening, but there wasn't a time when Gladys or any of the guests could not have overheard our conversation or seen our acts."
"God save me for a quibbler!" he thought. "A lie by inference and intended to deceive—though true enough in word—is none the less a lie. Yet for Stephanie's sake, I am remitted to it. The little woman was right—and I was a fool!"
Lorraine put out his hand; and Pendleton took it, feeling like a dog but smiling ingenuously.
"Woodside's place adjoins Criss-Cross and Porshinger visits him, you know; he was invited to the Chamberlains, one Sunday when we were there," Pendleton observed. "He might have seen me with Stephanie at that time; he might even have used a field-glass from Woodside's or say he did; and he might have seen us sitting together and concocted a story to fit his purposes."
"More than likely concocted it while he was saying it!" Lorraine exclaimed. "He wanted to embroil me with you—split the opposition into fighting among themselves, when they should stand together. Well—it hasn't succeeded. Nevertheless I thought it best that we should have it out at once, so as to have no misunderstanding hereafter."
"It was much the best way!" Pendleton agreed—"Much the best way. I thank you for giving me a chance to deny—and for accepting my denial."