softly. If she were really what he believedher to be, she was playing the role of sympathetic listener toperfection.
"I had a young chum of the name of Pomfret, a mere boy, impulsive,high-spirited, generous, unsuspicious, little versed in the ways of theworld, absolutely unversed in the ways of women. I had promised hisfamily to look after him. Looking back at this distance of years, Irealise how badly I fulfilled my trust; how, in a sense, I wasunwittingly the cause of the tragedy that befell him. I wonder if youever came across my friend, Jack Pomfret."
"Never; but, of course, I have met so few people. And you know thetruth, as well as everybody else, I was not brought up in my husband'sworld, in your world and that of the Southleighs. I could never claimto be more than respectable middle-class. I take it, your friend was amember of some old family."
The voice was steady, but he thought he noticed an increasedrestlessness in the movements of the hands. And the admission that shewas a member of the respectable middle-class struck him as conveying afalse note intentionally. If what she alleged was true, that her fatherhad been an officer in the Twenty-fourth Lancers, she was a grade higherthan the respectable middle-class. Clever as she was, she had made afalse step there.
"You want to hear the history of that tragedy, of the terriblecircumstances which cut short the life of my poor young friend. Well,it is hardly necessary to say that a woman was the cause. Women, Isuppose, have been at the bottom of most of the tragedies that havehappened to men ever since the days of Eve."
"I know that is the general opinion, but I have always been verydoubtful as to whether it is a true one."
She spoke lightly, but it seemed to him her tone was not quite soassured as it had been a moment ago. Anyway, she was evidentlyintensely interested in the forthcoming narrative.
"At Blankfield I happened to make the acquaintance of a very charmingyoung woman, who was not received in the Society of the place, for thereason that nothing was known about her. The acquaintance was made inthe most unconventional fashion. She asked me to call upon her and herbrother. I told all this to Pomfret, who knew the girl by sight, and heasked me to take him along with me. He had met her very often in theHigh Street, and was immensely attracted by her appearance."
"And were you attracted, too, by this formidable young lady, MajorMurchison?" interrupted Stella.
"In a way. But, honestly, more curious than attracted. Well, to cut mystory as short as I can, Pomfret soon arrived at an understanding withthe young woman, to a great extent without my knowledge. They weremarried secretly; there were family reasons why he could not marry heropenly."
"But this--but this,"--was she speaking a little nervously, or was itonly his fancy?--"was quite romantic and charming. No doubt they weredeeply in love with each other. Surely there was no tragedy to followsuch a delightful wooing?"
"But there was. This innocent-faced, charming girl was an adventuressof the first water. She was the accomplice of her criminal brother, ifbrother he was. A day or two after the wedding, Pomfret and I went todine with this wretched pair. Before we sat down to dinner, twodetectives entered the room and arrested the so-called brother on acharge of forgery." Mrs Spencer shuddered. "How horrible, howappalling! And what happened to the girl? Was she arrested, too?"
"No; she fainted, and I dragged my friend away. At the time I did notknow he had married her. When I got him back to the barracks, he toldme his miserable story. That same night, or some time in the nextmorning, he shot himself. It was perhaps a cowardly way in which toavoid the consequences of his folly, but then he was always rash andimpulsive."
Mrs Spencer spoke, and there was a far-away look in her eyes. "Yourpoor friend! No wonder that memory haunts you. And yet, he was notvery wise. This poor adventuress might have been easy to deal with; shemight not have troubled him any further if he had made her some smallallowance; would, so to speak, have slunk out of his life. And shemight have been innocent herself, unable to break away from thiswretched criminal of a brother."
"You are very charitable, Mrs Spencer," said Hugh coldly. "But I fearI cannot agree with you. If the girl had been naturally and innatelyhonest, she would rather have swept a crossing than have lived upon thegains of that creature--brother, or lover, or whatever he was."
Stella spoke with dignity. "You are, I see, very much moved, MajorMurchison, and you can judge better than I. I cannot pretend tounderstand the mentality of adventuresses and their criminalassociates," she added with a light laugh, "but I should say thatsweeping a crossing is a most uncongenial occupation, especially in thecold weather."
"In other words, if you had been in her place, you would have preferredto live on the earnings of a rogue?" queried Hugh, perhaps a little toowarmly. As soon as he spoke, he regretted his words. He had given heran advantage, of which she was not slow to avail herself.
She drew herself up proudly. "Major Murchison, are you not saying alittle too much in presuming to place me on the level of the adventuressyou have spoken of? I think it will be more consistent with myself-respect to leave your question unanswered."
And then suddenly her proud mood vanished, and a softer one took itsplace. Her voice trembled as she spoke; there was a suspicious moisturein her eyes.
"I see that I was very wrong when I suffered Guy to persuade me to marryhim. I have alienated him from his friends and family, and, alas! Ihave none of my own to bring him in exchange. His uncle loathes me;Lady Nina is polite and tolerates me. And you--you, his old friend, whohave known him from boyhood--you dislike me also. But,"--and here hervoice swelled into a proud note--"my husband loves and trusts me. Whilehe does that, Major Murchison, I can snap my fingers at the rest of theworld."
Murchison bowed respectfully; he felt he had got to recover a good dealof lost ground. So far the woman had the advantage, but he did not failto notice the vulgarity of the last phrase, "snap my fingers."
"I am very sorry if I have offended you, Mrs Spencer, by my indiscreetremarks. If you are secure in Guy's love, as I am sure you are, youhave a very happy possession."
She sank back on the sofa, and in a second recovered the composure whichhad been momentarily disturbed.
"Forgive me if I have spoken a little warmly," she said, "but I couldnot overlook what you said just now."
And then Hugh shot at her his last bolt. "I have not yet told you thename of the girl who drove my poor young friend Pomfret to his death."
"Tell it me, if you please, but I shall be no more likely to know itthan the name of your friend, Mr Pomfret. As I told you, I am a memberof the respectable middle-class; I cannot boast that I am acquaintedwith the aristocracy, except through my husband."
"And yet your father, you told me just now, was an officer in theTwenty-fourth Lancers. Those officers were all recruited from thearistocracy, or at worst the upper middle-class."
"Oh, you are trying to cross-examine me and trap me," she criedbitterly.
But Hugh was inexorable. "The name of that woman was Norah Burton; heraccomplice, her brother as she called him, was George Burton; he hadother aliases," he thundered.
He had shot his last bolt, but Stella was not shaken. She rose up,quivering a little. He noticed that, but it might be due to theagitation of wronged innocence.
"The name conveys nothing to me. Your attitude during these few minuteshas been very strange. You have insinuated that I am an adventuress onthe same level with your Miss Norah something. Well, so far, poor dearGuy has not shot himself, and I will take good care he doesn't."
"You have much to gain by his living, if you love him--the title andeverything. I have no doubt he has made his will. You would gain agood deal by his death. I cannot say, at the moment, which alternativewould suit you better."
"You are intolerable, you are insulting. If I tell my husband this whenhe comes down, he will kick you out of the house."
"But I don't think you will tell your husband," retorted Hugh coolly.
"And why not?
My word will outweigh yours. I have only to tell himthat you brand me as an adventuress, of the same class as this Miss NoraBurton, and you will see what he will say."
"But you will not tell him," repeated Hugh. "Mrs Spencer, I did notthink we should go so far as we have done. But I will put my cards onthe table at once, and I do so from certain indications in yourdemeanour to-night. I will not say all I have in my mind; I am going tocollect further evidence first. But I will say this: you are not whatyou seem." He had touched her now. Her calm had gone, her breast washeaving, her hands were moving more restlessly.
"Put your cards on the table and have done. I was Stella Keane when Imarried my husband. I defy you to disprove that."
"At