But though his lips made the assertion, his eyes, in agony, seemed to be asking a question. He seized her other wrist.
“What’s your object in telling me such a lie? What are you trying to gain by it? Do you think you’ll get rid of me for to-night, and that to-morrow, by some trick, you’ll escape from me forever? D’you think that?”
“I met your wife to-day just outside Santa Sophia,” she said steadily. “When she saw me she stopped. We looked at each other for a minute. Neither of us spoke a word. But she told me something.”
“Told you . . . ?”
“With her eyes. She knows about you and me.”
His hands fell from her wrists. By the look in his eyes she saw that he was beginning to believe her.
“She knows,” Mrs. Clarke repeated. “And yet she had come here. What does that mean?”
“What does that mean?” he repeated, in a muttering voice.
“Do you believe what I say?”
“Yes; she is here.”