"But you came here with Ricketts?"
"Not of my own free will. I didn't want to come, but she made me. She threatened to shoot me if I tried to get out of the cab."
"But how came you to be with Ricketts at all? Do you know her?"
"If you mean by Ricketts the person who brought me here, I never saw her before in my life. When she came to me in the railway carriage, I thought my husband had sent her to meet me. I was in great distress, or I should have been more cautious."
"Look here, Mrs Bankes, what has happened has been your fault, not ours. We certainly were not desirous of your presence, so perhaps you will just explain by what curious accident you are here."
Mrs Bankes did explain, lamely enough, and with plentiful lack of dignity. Her audience listened with all their ears.
"I am Mrs Bankes, of Colchester. This afternoon I quarrelled with my husband--I see now that I was altogether in the wrong." If only Frank could have heard! "I was beside myself with passion. I said that I would run away, and--I ran away. When I got to London someone came to me in the train. I thought my husband had sent her to take me back again, so--I went with her, but--she brought me here instead--you wouldn't listen to me, so--"
She stopped short, something seemed to be choking her. But she had said enough to make her meaning pretty plain.
"Ricketts is a fool." They were the first words the lady in widow's weeds had uttered. They seemed to meet with general approval.
"Rickett's is not the only fool." The addition was the little woman's. This expression of opinion was also adopted. "For all I know, Mrs Bankes, you may, on ordinary occasions, be a person remarkable for common-sense; but you must forgive my saying that, on this occasion, it is not that quality in your conduct which strikes one most. You are the wife of a man who is no friend of ours; you have forced yourself into our confidence; you have tricked us into treating you with alarming frankness; you have engineered yourself into a position in which you will be able to do us serious mischief. For us it now becomes a question of self-preservation. What are we to do with her?"