“What is that?” Drake asked anxiously.
“It isn’t a pretty story, but you’d better know it. Of course you can’t appreciate the code of morality that exists in West Africa. Nearly all the white men out there have native wives. In fact, many of the Congo officials have half a dozen. From the woman’s point of view, it is a valid marriage and her status is raised thereby. You can guess what is coming,” Gaunt said miserably.
“You had a native wife?”
“No. But the general belief throughout the Congo was that I had taken Marillier’s native wife and that that was the reason why he had attacked me. But there is no necessity to go into details, and I will simply say that while I was on the Congo, I lived a clean life, as far as women are concerned. You know Lady Mildred, and if the Baron should tell her——”
Gaunt broke off, and turned away so that Drake should not see the misery in his eyes. The latter had listened to this recital in dismay, for he saw clearly that Lady Mildred would be deeply hurt should the Baron have told this story, and he could say no word of comfort.
“Why don’t you speak? Do you think that I have lied to you?” Gaunt demanded fiercely.
“No. Of course I believe you, but I fear that your enemies have a powerful weapon. The Baron may honestly believe that you killed Marillier on account of the woman, but——” He ceased to speak, and his face cleared. “I don’t think the Baron will have told Lady Mildred, yet; for he will hold it in reserve to use against you. Why don’t you go to her yourself at once and tell her? Hearing it from you she might believe, while if the knowledge came from a stranger—there would always remain a suspicion.”
“You have set me a hard task, and I don’t think that I have the strength to carry it out,” Gaunt said dully.
“Believe me, it is the best plan—the only one,” Drake said impetuously.
Gaunt did not answer, but stared moodily into the fire and the silence became oppressive, but soon there was a knock at the door and a footman entered.