“We’ve known each other too well for either to attempt explanation or condemnation. You wish me to testify first.” The long fingers unclasped 207 from over his knee. “You know the story of the past year: it’s the key to the future.”
A smile, sardonic, distinctive, lifted the tips of Arnold’s big moustaches.
“Your faith in your protecting gods is certainly beautiful.”
Ichabod nursed a callous spot on one palm.
“I understand,”––very slowly. “At least, you’ll answer my question now, perhaps,” he suggested.
“With pleasure. You intimate the future will be but a repetition of the past. It’ll be my endeavor to give that statement the lie.”
“You insist on quarrelling?”
“I insist on but one thing,”––swiftly. “That you never again come into my sight, or into the sight of my wife.”
One of Ichabod’s long hands extended in gesture.
“And I insist you shall never again use the name of Camilla Maurice as your wife.”