"I will not say another word about myself; but hear me out. If I have nothing to hope for, let me go away in the belief I am not unjustly suspected by you of hurting your husband. I never cared much for my life. Let me feel that when I die I shall not be worse in your eyes than I deserve to be. Mrs. Davenport, hear me."
He entreated her with his voice, with his eyes, with his bent body, with his outstretched hands.
Without speaking, she gave him to understand he might go on.
"I knew Mr. Davenport years before I saw you. I had business connections with him which would not bear the light. You must have heard or guessed something of what we have been busy about?"
She made no sign--said nothing.
"I was a steel engraver. Now and then he wanted plates done. I did the plates for him."
"What kind of plates?"
She betrayed no emotion of any kind. Her voice was as calm as though she was asking an ordinary question.
"You had better not know. It would do you no good to know. But do you believe me that I was hundreds of miles away from London that awful night?"
"And what brought you back to this place now?"