"My conversation with Lord Ralles?" exclaimed Madge, in a bewildered way.
"Yes," I said bitterly, "keep up the acting. The practice is good, even if it deceives no one."
"I don't understand a word you are saying," she retorted, getting angry in turn. "You speak as if I had done wrong—as if—I don't know what; and I have a right to know to what you allude."
"I don't see how I can be any clearer," I muttered. "I was under the station platform, hiding from the cowboys, while you and Lord Ralles were walking. I didn't want to be a listener, but I heard a good deal of what you said."
"But I didn't walk with Lord Ralles," she cried, "The only person I walked with was Captain Ackland."
That took me very much aback, for I had never questioned in my mind that it wasn't Lord Ralles. Yet the moment she spoke, I realized how much alike the two brothers' voices were, and how easily the blurring of distance and planking might have misled me. For a moment I was speechless. Then I replied coldly—
"It makes no difference with whom you were. What you said was the essential part."
"But how could you for an instant suppose that I could say what I did to Lord Ralles?" she demanded.
"I naturally thought he would be the one to whom you would appeal concerning my 'insulting' conduct."
Madge looked at me for a moment as if transfixed. Then she laughed, and cried—