"You shake my hand and spill the powder," said the Hon. Miss Grey, smiling.
"Elsin," murmured Walter Butler, "has this fellow Renault poisoned you against me?"
"Why, no, sir. You are married to a wife and dare to court me! There lies the poison, Mr. Butler!"
"Hush, Elsin!" murmured Lady Coleville. "It was a mistake, dear. Mr. Butler is not married to the—the lady—to anybody. He swears it!"
"Not wedded?" She stared, then turned scarlet to her hair. And Walter Butler, I think, mistook the cause and meaning of that crimson shame, for he smiled, and drawing a paper from his coat, spread it to Sir Peter's eyes.
"I spoke of the gallows, Sir Peter, and you felt yourself once more affronted. Yet, if you will glance at this——"
"What is it?" asked Sir Peter, looking him in the eye.
"Treason, Sir Peter—a letter—part of one—to the rebel Washington, written by a spy!"
"A lie! I wrote it!" said the Hon. Miss Grey.
Walter Butler turned to her, amazed, doubting his ears.