In the mirror he saw the colour mount to Ruby’s pale cheeks. The suggestion that Rupert was happily married had not been tactful. He waited a moment, but she did not speak. "Now, supposing I make a statement for private circulation only. It can be witnessed and made quite a legal document if you like, but only those interested should see it—Rupert’s father and sister, for example; Sir Reginald, if you can guarantee that he will hold his tongue." "A statement which will absolutely exonerate Rupert?" Ruby’s voice seemed to come with an effort. "Of course." "You admit, then, that you saw me alter the cheque in Rupert’s rooms that afternoon?" Despard shrugged his shoulders. "Well, as far as I remember I was just coming into the room and I saw you sitting at the bureau scribbling on a piece of paper. You blotted it and I saw it was a cheque. I hesitated a moment, and as I entered you rolled it up and put it in your glove. There was a guilty look on your face and I suspected something. That was why I questioned you. I took the opportunity of examining the blotting-pad with a little hand-mirror—of course, I could not tell anything was wrong, but I had a pretty shrewd suspicion. You may be a good actress, Ruby, but you gave yourself away that afternoon." He turned round as he spoke and looked straight at her. Her face was contorted with rage, her eyes were flaming. "You coward! You actually saw me alter the cheque and you examined the blotting-pad! You knew Rupert was innocent. You knew I did it. Yet, at the trial you would not speak. You let an innocent man, your friend, go to prison.... Why did you do it? Why, answer me? Why?" Her sudden passion alarmed him. She had risen to her feet and was standing close to him, gazing straight into his eyes. He strained his ears fearing lest some one had overheard her. "I’ve got the truth at last," she cried. "Every one shall know it now." Despard moved, placing himself between Ruby and the door. He was afraid what she might do in her passion. "You asked why I let an innocent man go to prison?" he said softly, in a gentle, reassuring voice. It was almost wistful in its tenderness. "I had to choose between my friend and—and the woman I love. You, Ruby." "You never loved me," she cried. "Rupert was my lover and you know it. You came between us. You were jealous of him." "That’s true," he replied with a sigh. "But I would have been loyal to him if my love for you had not been the strongest thing in my life." Ruby laughed sarcastically, then checked herself. What did it matter how Despard lied? What did it matter if she let him believe that he was fooling her? For two years she had been trying to get the confession he now made. She had tried every means but one. She had done everything but come to him herself and plead with him, bargain with him. Nothing mattered if she could get him to put in writing the confession he had just made.