"Why did you attack me last night?" he demanded the moment that we were in sight.
O'Rane came to a standstill with his hands in his pockets, swaying slightly from heel to toe.
"We'll go into that in a moment, if you don't mind," was the answer. "What was your motive in coming here?"
I had Beresford under vigilant scrutiny, and his surprise was real or uncommonly well assumed.
"To see Sonia, of course," he replied. "I didn't know you were at home. Do you usually try to murder people who come to see her?" he demanded with weak truculence. "I know, of course, that you neglect her and ill-treat her yourself."
O'Rane rocked contemplatively to and fro, nodding thoughtfully to himself.
"When did you last see my wife?" he asked suddenly.
"I can't tell you."
"You've got to tell me, Beresford."
"I'm afraid I can't. I spent six weeks in prison and I've had another fortnight getting convalescent. It was some time before that."