As a matter of fact, there were two detectives within a few feet of each other, but in her agitation she had not observed the second man, who was deputed to keep watch on the movements of Mr. George Dutton.
George Dutton was an old hand, and not to be lightly disturbed by small incidents. But he recognised the significance of this visit. His ruddy colour died away.
"You have bad news," he said quietly.
"The worst, George. Bryant, the detective, paid a visit to Guy this evening. I came in just in the nick of time. The library door was ajar, I heard what Bryant said. The Major has left a diary behind him, and, of course, he had put it all down, up to the arranged meeting in Cathcart Square. The game is up, you will recognise that."
Dutton's mentality was a little bit slower than her own. "Did you hear any extracts read from the diary?"
"What a fool you are!" she cried indignantly. "Why should I wait to hear? If the man kept a diary, is it not easy to guess that he would have related every incident connected with me, from our first meeting at the Southleigh dinner-party? Bryant is watching me, there is a detective waiting outside. No doubt he is watching you, too. He is just waiting to pounce."
"Then why has he gone to your husband?"
"Oh, you are too dense for worlds. Just to soften the blow. Can't you understand that he wants to warn him beforehand of the shame that is going to fall upon him, the discovery that his wife is a murderess?"
And then Mr. Dutton understood. He stretched out appealing arms to her. "My poor little girl, my ever faithful pal! And I have brought you to this!"
"You have brought me to this," she said bitterly. "Did I not implore you upon my knees to accept the Major's terms, and you were so obstinate, so set. You would insist upon the other way because it seemed better to you. And I, fool that I was, always yielding to your sinister influence, gave way as I always have done."