"But we have been on perfectly friendly terms, always—with one exception," said Desboro.
"Yes—with one exception. But that is all over now——"
"I am afraid it isn't."
Clydesdale's grin remained unaltered when he said: "Well, what the hell——" and stopped abruptly.
"It's about that one exception of which I wish to speak," continued Desboro, after a moment's thought. "I don't want to say very much—just one or two things which I hope you already know and believe. And all I have to say is this, Clydesdale; whatever I may have been—whatever I may be now, that sort of treachery is not in me. I make no merit of it—it may be mere fastidiousness on my part which would prevent me from meditating treachery toward an acquaintance or a friend."
Clydesdale scrutinised him in silence.
"Never, since Elena was your wife, have I thought of her except as your wife."
Clydesdale only grinned.
"I want to be as clear as I can on this subject," continued the other, "because—and I must say it to you—there have been rumours concerning—me."
"And concerning her," said Clydesdale simply. "Don't blink matters, Desboro."