“Not quite, for I have effectually closed your mouth, my friend. It was very painful to me—the necessity of taking these proceedings. But still, it is possible to end them. One word, and Mr. Ruggles will explain that a dreadful mistake has been made,” the Baron said coolly, after a supreme effort at self-control.
“I do not intend to say that word. You have done your worst. You have put forward a false charge in an infamous way. You have attempted to ruin me utterly. And do you think that I am the man to take it lying down? No, my friend. It soon will be my turn,” Gaunt said grimly.
“You can do nothing, and I am still willing to be friends.”
“Friends!” Gaunt cried contemptuously. “Such canaille as you, my friend! I would prefer an out and out Apache. But I won’t detain you from your dinner. Au revoir, Baron.”
And he was immediately ashamed of the outbreak, for he had done no good save to relieve his feelings. He did not realize that he had made the Baron thoroughly uncomfortable.
It was decided that they should leave Gaunt House that night and go straight to Winchester, and there await the wire from Captain Armstrong to the effect that the Esmeralda was about to sail.
The next day such a message came.
“You have still time to motor to Lynton House,” Edward Drake suggested as they were getting ready to start for Southampton, where they intended to stay the night.
“I have told you that I won’t discuss my wife with you,” Gaunt answered coldly.
“You are very hard, and I think you will regret it. Try to put yourself in her place. She was sorely tried,” Drake protested quietly.