Spurred to it thus, Ruth poured out the entire story of her marriage, and so clear and lucid was her statement that it threw upon the affair a flood of light, whilst so frank and truthful was her tone, her narrative hung so well together, that the Bench began to recover from the shock to its faith, and was again in danger of believing her. Trenchard saw this and trembled. To save Wilding for the Cause he had resorted to this desperate expedient of betraying that Cause. It must be observed, however, that he had not done so save under the conviction that betrayed it was bound to be, and that since that was inevitable the thing had better come from him—for Wilding's sake—than from Richard Westmacott. He had taken the bull by the horns in a most desperate fashion when he had determined to hoist Richard and Blake with their own petard, hoping that, after all, the harm would reach no further than the destruction of these two—a purely defensive measure. But now this girl threatened to wreck his scheme just as it was being safely steered to harbour. Suddenly he swung round, interrupting her.
“Lies, lies, lies!” he clamoured, and his interruption coming at such a time served to impress the Duke most unfavourably—as well it might.
“It is our wish to hear this lady out, Mr. Trenchard,” the Duke reproved him.
But Mr. Trenchard was undismayed. Indeed, he had just discovered a hitherto neglected card, which should put an end to this dangerous game.
“I do abhor to hear Your Grace's patience thus abused,” he exclaimed with some show of heat. “This lady makes a mock of you. If you'll allow me to ask two questions—or perhaps three—I'll promise finally to prick this bubble for you. Have I Your Grace's leave?”
“Well, well,” said Albemarle. “Let us hear your questions.” And his colleagues nodded.
Trenchard turned airily to Ruth. Behind her Diana sat—an attendant had fetched a chair for her—in fear and wonder at what she saw and heard, her eyes ever and anon straying to Sir Rowland's back, which was towards her.
“This letter, madam,” said he, “for the possession of which you have accounted in so... so... picturesque a manner, was intended for and addressed to Mr. Wilding, you say. And you are prepared to swear to it?”
Ruth turned indignantly to the Bench. “Must I answer this man's questions?” she demanded.
“I think, perhaps, it were best you did,” said the Duke, still showing her all deference.