bleeding; he was swearing horribly.

Micky was crimson in the face; the veins stood out like cords on his
forehead; he was straining every nerve to free himself from his
captors.

"Apologise!" he gasped. "Apologise, you dammed cad!"

Ashton laughed savagely.

"Apologise! What for? It's the truth, and you know it. Apologise! I'll
repeat it.... I say that you were in Paris three weeks ago with Esther
Shepstone, one of the girls from Eldred's...."

Micky suddenly stopped struggling, but his breath came in deep gasps
as he spoke. He looked round at the faces of the other men.

"I know most of you--here," he said in a laboured voice. "And most of
you know me--and you know that I'm not a damned liar like Ashton; and
I know that you'll believe me--believe me--when I tell you that the
lady who was with me in--in Paris--three weeks ago--is my wife ...
we've been married some time--and it is solely by her wish that it has
been kept a secret."

If Micky had dropped a bomb in the room it could hardly have created
more consternation. The incredulity on the faces of the men around him
would have been amusing to an onlooker, but to Micky the whole thing
was tragedy.

He had brought Esther to this with his blundering quixotism; he was
nearly beside himself with remorse.

If he had been free he would have half killed Ashton. His hands ached
to get at him; to take him by his lying throat and choke the breath
from his body.

He looked at the men around him with passionate eyes.

"I've never given any of you cause to doubt my word yet," he said
hoarsely. "And I'm sure you'll agree with me that this man should be
made to retract what he said and apologise."

"Certainly--he ought to apologise. It's disgraceful--infernally
disgraceful," said a man who had been listening to Ashton's story
eagerly enough a moment ago.

"What do you say, gentlemen?"

There was a chorus of assent. The men who had been holding Micky's
arms let him go.

Ashton backed a step away.

His face was livid, his eyes furious, but he knew that there was no
other course open to him; nobody in the room had any sympathy with him
now.

"I apologise," he said savagely. "I didn't know that--the--lady--Mellowes
had married--the lady."

His tone added that even now he did not believe it; he edged away to
the door and disappeared.

Micky dropped into a chair; he looked thoroughly done up. Some one
pushed a glass of whisky across to him. There was an unco