"What's that to you?" asked Trent firmly. But he was livid. Then suddenly changing his tone he turned imploringly to Bice, whose eyes were still fixed upon him, though she had drawn her hands tightly against her chest, and was shrinking backwards. "Bice! You at least will not believe this ridiculous slander. You and I both know that Clive would not listen to advice. I was very uneasy about him--for your sake, remember--could I have done him any harm? Perhaps I had better have treated him more openly, better for myself certainly it would have been, but I thought he would grow desperate, and lose all self-respect if I let him know that I knew his story to be false. It was for that reason that I never told him I had traced Smith. For Smith utterly denied it to me then. I believe now that he was lying, as, according to Mr Ibbetson, he has lied about me, but at the time I took his word for his statement. And then I lent Clive the money, calling it lending, but never intending to take it from him, only feeling that the effort of repaying it would make more impression than words. You understand this, Bice?" She did not answer his appeal. A mute horror seemed to have seized her. Ibbetson looked at him with more pity than she did, and bent his eyes on the ground as he went on. "Finally, there is the man Elias Brooks." "What of him?" said Trent hoarsely. "It is never safe to buy silence, because speech will always be ready for a higher bidder. Indeed, I doubt if you knew what most required hushing up. He was interested in your interview with Smith, and is prepared to repeat the greater part of it." "Confound you and him together," said Trent, springing up. "Are these your tools? And you believe him?" "Yes I do; because the corroboration is exact." "I shall expect satisfaction for these insults, Mr Ibbetson." Oliver's voice was choked. "Not really, I think," Jack said coolly. "Stop!" interrupted Bice. She stood up, trembling so much that she had to rest her hand on the sofa. Trent's eyes fell before hers which seemed to blaze with the fire of her indignation. She tried to speak, but the words would not come. "Go away, go!" she said at last with a shudder. He made a step towards her. "Bice, my darling, hear me!" "You could treat Clive like that!" "Let me explain--" "Not a word," she interrupted. She spoke in a strained high voice, but words had come back to her. "You have deceived me from first to last. I have never loved you, but I thought you were good to Clive. Every day of my life I will thank God that He has saved me from becoming your wife. Do you hear? Now go." The scorn, the sweeping indignation of her voice startled them all. Brigitta looked round; Moroni, whom Jack had not seen until that moment, came hurriedly forward, and stood looking from one to another. Trent caught her hand.