ally amount to a new
career. That is why I preferred not to dine at the club to-night,
although I am looking forward to seeing them all again. I wanted instead
to have this conversation with you. I lied at the inquest when I said
that the relations between Oliver Hilditch and his wife that night
seemed perfectly normal. I lied when I said that I knew of no cause for
ill-will between them. I lied when I said that I left them on friendly
terms. I lied when I said that Oliver Hilditch seemed depressed and
nervous. I lied when I said that he expressed the deepest remorse for
what he had done. There was every indication that night, of the hate
which I happen to know existed between the woman and the man. I have not
the faintest doubt in my mind but that she murdered him. In my judgment,
she was perfectly justified in doing so."

There followed a brief but enforced silence as some late arrivals
passed their table. The room was well-ventilated but Andrew Wilmore felt
suddenly hot and choking. A woman, one of the little group of newcomers,
glanced towards Francis curiously.

"Francis Ledsam, the criminal barrister," her companion whispered,--"the
man who got Oliver Hilditch off. The man with him is Andrew Wilmore, the
novelist. Discussing a case, I expect."

CHAPTER VIII

The little party of late diners passed on their way to the further end
of the room, leaving a wave of artificiality behind, or was it, Andrew
Wilmore wondered, in a moment of half-dazed speculation, that it was
they and the rest of the gay company who represented the real things,
and he and his companion who were playing a sombre part in some unreal
and gloomier world. Francis' voice, however, when he recommenced his
diatribe, was calm and matter-of-fact enough.

"You see," he continued, argumentatively, "I was morally and actually
responsible for the man's being brought back into Society. And far worse
than that, I was responsible for his being thrust back again upon his
wife. Ergo, I was also responsible for what she did that night. The
matter seems as plain as a pikestaff to me. I did what I could to atone,
rightly or wrongly it doesn't matter, because it is over and done with.
There you are, old fellow, now you know what's been making me nervy.
I've committed wholesale perjury, but I acted according to my conscience
and I think according to justice. The thing has worried me, I admit, but
it has passed, and I'm glad it's off my chest. One more