“Certainly not, sir, I never heard anything so preposterous in my life,” said the other.
“Very good, but on one point you are wrong. Reckavile is a strange creature, and he does not wish to kill you; in fact he was hoping you would kill him.”
Wheatland gazed at him open-mouthed.
“Kill him, sir, and how much better off should I be if I were hanged for murder, than if I were murdered myself. And what would become of my business; I should look ridiculous.”
Wynter felt he had better terminate the interview.
“Good-day, Mr. Wheatland,” he said bowing slightly.
Wheatland laid a hand on his arm.
“He will marry her, won’t he sir, when I have my divorce; I should not like to think he would desert her.”
There was something in the tone which went to Wynter’s heart. This stubborn man, who would not forgive, and who was willing to face publicity for the sake of his personal honour, yet hoped that the woman would find happiness or at any rate safety by marrying the man.
“I’ll tell him,” said Wynter hurriedly, and went out.