plain—speaking; but she went on after a pause: “What you say is dreadful. Each thing seems to lead back to another—and I feel so ignorant of it all.” She hesitated again, and then said, turning her bluest glance on him: “I am going to be quite frank with you, Mr. Amherst. Mr. Tredegar repeated to me what you said to him last night, and I think he was annoyed that you were unwilling to give any proof of the charges you made.”
“Charges? Ah,” Amherst exclaimed, with a start of recollection, “he means my refusing to say who told me that Dr. Disbrow was not telling the truth about Dillon?”
“Yes. He said that was a very grave accusation to make, and that no one should have made it without being able to give proof.”
“That is quite true, theoretically. But in this case it would be easy for you or Mr. Tredegar to find out Whether I was right.”
“But Mr. Tredegar said you refused to say who told you.”
“I was bound to, as it happened. But I am not bound to prevent your trying to get the same information.”
“Ah—” she murmured understandingly; and, a sudden thought striking him, he went on, with a glance at the clock: “If you really wish to judge for yourself,
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