Rachel pointed to a chair. He took it, crossed one knee over the other, rested his arm on the table near, and watched her with a sneering smile, while she seated herself.
He broke the silence.
"I confess you were very clever about Dick Tanner—and I was a precious fool! I never suspected."
"I have not the least idea what you mean."
"A lie!" he said, impetuously. "You were in Dick Tanner's house—staying with him alone—at night—after I left you. You were seen there—by a man—a Canadian—from whom I had the story—only two days ago. He doesn't know my name, nor I his. We met on the common, two nights ago, after dark. And by the merest chance he was coming to the farm, and he began to talk of you. Then this came out. But of course I always knew that it—or something like it—would come out. Your puritanical airs never deceived me—for a moment."
"I suppose you are talking of John Dempsey?" The scorn in her voice enraged him.
"I know nothing about John Dempsey. Of course I can track the man who told me, if I want to—with the greatest ease. He was coming here to call. He saw either you or your partner. And I shall track him—if you force me."
She was silent—and he smiled.
"Assume, please, that I have my witness at hand. Well, then, he saw you alone—at night—in Dick Tanner's charge, a few days apparently, after you and I quarrelled. What were you doing there?"
"It was during that great snowstorm, I suppose," she said, in her most ordinary voice, taking up her knitting. "I remember going over to the Tanners' to ask for something—and being snow-bound. Lucy Tanner was always ready to help me—and be sorry for me."