"You must know," she said, "who it was told the Arbiter what was in those papers."
Pateley sat silent a moment. Then he said—
"It can and does happen occasionally that things are brought to the Arbiter of which I don't know the origin, in fact of which the origin is purposely kept a secret."
She waited for him to add something to this sentence, to add a but to it, but he remained silent. Being unversed in diplomatic evasions, she accepted his words as a disclaimer.
"But still," she said, "even if you don't know this you could find it out. It matters terribly. I don't want to say to any one else, it is not a thing to be told, how horribly it matters, but I must tell you, that you may see. Lord Stamfordham thought that my husband had betrayed the secret—he told him so then. And to-day—it was too terrible!—he was at a luncheon to which Frank and Mr. Wentworth went, not knowing——" A sudden involuntary change in Pateley's face made her stop and say, "But perhaps you were there? Were you at the luncheon?"
"No," said Pateley. "I was not there."
"But you heard about it?" she said.
"Yes," he said after a pause. "I heard about it."
"It's too horrible!" said Rachel, covering her face with her hands. "Of course you heard about it—everybody will hear about it: how Lord Stamfordham insulted him and refused to sit down with him, because of the unjust accusation that was brought against him. Now do you see," she said excitedly, and Pateley, as he looked at her, was amazed at the fire that shone from her eyes, at the glow of excitement in her whole being—"now do you see how much it matters? how if we don't find out the truth, if we don't get to know who did it, this is the kind of thing that will happen to him? You see now, don't you? You will help me?"