t of what he did--Morewood drew his malicious
little bow and shot his arrow, sharper-pointed than he fancied. "I
suppose you'll admit," said he with the exaggerated carelessness of a
man with an unanswerable case, "that poor old Maturin was some authority,
and he told me in confidence--I asked him about it, you know, just to be
able to warn you fellows--that there was an absolutely fatal defect in
your machine."

To score too great a triumph is sometimes as disconcerting as to fail.
There was no chorus of indignation, no denial of Maturin's authority, no
good-natured scoffing such as Morewood had expected. He looked round on
faces fallen into a sudden troubled seriousness; no voice was raised in
protest, gay or grave. In an instant he knew that he had done something
far beyond what his humour had suggested; but what it was or how it came
about, he could not tell.

The Benyon brothers were not over-ready of speech in a difficulty; their
thoughts were busy now, but their tongues tied. Marchmont found nothing
to say; he could not help raising his eyes under half-drooped lids till
they rested on May Quisante's face. There was a moment more of silence;
then, answering the tacit summons of the table, May Quisante spoke. She
leant forward a little, smiling, and spoke clearly and composedly.

"Oh, you misunderstood him," she said. "He was consulted, but fell ill
before he could go into all the facts or write his report. But he had
expressed a favourable opinion of the Alethea to my husband." She paused,
and then added, "If you'd taken the trouble to read the prospectus you'd
have known that, Mr. Morewood."

Little Lady Richard laughed nervously, glanced round, and rose from the
table; it was sooner than the ladies were wont to move but, as she said,
nobody seemed to be eating any fruit, and so there was nothing to stay
for. The men sat down again. Morewood perceived very clearly that a
constraint had come upon them; but he was possessed by curiosity.

"Well, I should like to see the prospectus now," he said.

"You'll find one or two over there," said Dick, jerking his head towards
a writing-table, but not rising.

Morewood made in the direction indicated, a low mutter from Dick
following him. Then Jimmy observed:

"He doesn't understand a thing about it, you know, and of course he
didn't follow what Maturin said."

The others nodded. This explanation was indeed the simple one; in most
cases it would have been accepted