The conversation did not take the turn that Lorimer wished.
"Listen," said he, in the tone of a man who has taken a sudden resolution, "I want to speak to you upon a rather delicate subject, but you must not stop me. You have just forbidden me to mention the name of your husband before you. Very well, I will not mention his name, but I am going to make you acquainted with certain facts which you ought no longer to be ignorant of. I do not come here to plead in his favour, and yet, as even the blackest criminal is not executed without a chance of defending himself, I really do not see what there would be outrageous, even in that. Will you listen a few moments?"
"Very well! Go on," said Dora indifferently.
"I saw him yesterday—for that matter, I have seen him almost every day since he came back to London."
"Where has he been?" asked Dora, with but a mild display of interest.
"To Paris."
"He often goes over—I mean he often used to go."
"The last time he went there, an incident happened which it seems to me ought to interest you. He went to seek out General Sabaroff. He found him, tore up before his eyes the paper that he had signed in your house, and threw the pieces in his face."
"Heavens!" said Dora, startled, "and what happened then?"
"The next morning they fought with pistols—in the Bois de Vincennes—your husband lodged a bullet in the General's right shoulder."