“Well, it’s a cad’s question, and you must have played the private detective to know that he saw me home.” “My dear woman,” he said, “don’t the Phyllis Trevors know it, and Mme. de Mauvesine, and Mme. de Bogota, and half London. I am not making any accusations.” “I don’t care a pin if you are,” she said. “It’s merely a question of this sort,” he went on. “The doctor who’s in charge of the case wants to know whether he had any shock on that night. He wasn’t by any chance knocked down at a crossing? He didn’t fall? The cab horse hadn’t been down?” She shook her head minutely. “There wasn’t any violent scene? Your husband ...” “Oh, he ...” she said. “Besides, he was in Paris.” Suddenly she broke out: “Look here, you don’t know what this means to me. I don’t mean to say that Leicester’s very much to me, but still, it’s pretty sickening to have it happen to him.” “Well”--Grimshaw conceded a point--“I’m not saying that it’s your fault.” “Oh, I’m not worrying about whose fault it is,” she said. “It’s him. It’s the thought of him, poor harmless devil!” She looked up at Grimshaw. “What doctor have you got? What does he say?” “We’ve got a man called Wells,” he answered. “He doesn’t say much either way. He says he can’t tell till he knows what happened.” She scrutinized his face. “Look here,” she said, “this _is_ true? You aren’t merely telling me a tale to get things out of me?” Grimshaw did not even answer her before she looked desolately down again. “Of course it’s true,” she said; “you aren’t that sort.” “And you knew I knew already that he saw you home and that he stayed two hours,” Grimshaw said. “What I want to know is what gave him a shock.” “Ah! ... you’d get that from his servant,” she said. “He’d be sitting up for Dudley. Well, I don’t care about that; I’d fight any case on that.” “Oh, don’t worry,” Grimshaw said. “I promise you that Pauline ...” “Don’t you,” she said suddenly, and clenching her hands, “don’t you mention that little pink toad to me, if you want to get anything out of me. I hate her and I hate you! You got Dudley away from me together. Why, it’s been like devils and angels fighting for a man’s soul. That’s what it’s _been_. I’m a religious woman, though you mayn’t believe it. I believe in angels and the devil, too.” She pulled her skirt a little up from the ground. “I expect you’ll say,” she began again, “that you’re on the side of the angels. Well, see what you’ve made of him, poor dear! This wouldn’t have happened if you’d left him to me. It’s you that are responsible for it all--you, poking your nose into what doesn’t concern you.” “Ah!” he said slowly and rather mournfully, “perhaps it has turned out like that if we get outside and look on. But as to which of us is which--angel and devil--I should not care to say.” She looked up at him. “You wouldn’t?” she said.