"I know everything," Hildegarde went on rapidly. "Wolff has not opened his lips, but Seleneck told us. We know that Wolff took upon his shoulders the consequences of your and your brother’s conduct. He accepted the challenge that your brother refused, and he went to his death without a word of reproach or anger. And that same night you fled with the man whose name the whole world coupled with yours, and took with you the one thing of value which you could steal from your husband—his soldier’s honour." Nora put her hand to her forehead. "Please—please tell me what you mean!" she cried piteously. "I don’t understand—his soldier’s honour——?" "You know nothing of the papers that were stolen on the same night of your flight?" "Papers——?" "Mobilisation papers—the papers on which Wolff had been working. When Seleneck came to see you and tell you what had happened, he found that you had gone, and that Wolff’s room had been broken into. There was only one explanation." "Listen!" Nora leant against the table. She was breathing in broken gasps that were like sobs, but there was such clear resolution in her eyes that Hildegarde waited in stern, rigid patience for her to speak. "I will tell you all I can," she said at last, in a low, toneless voice from which she had driven every trace of emotion. "I can’t tell you all, because I have not the strength—you must just believe me, Hildegarde, when I say that I loved Wolff and that I was true to him—yes, right to the bitter end. You must try and understand that I suffered. I was English. I couldn’t help myself. I was English to the bottom of my heart. I loved my country as you love yours, and I could not give it up. When the trouble began I was miserable: everything goaded me. Oh, I was all wrong, I know. I let myself be carried away by it all. I let myself be influenced. There were the Bauers—you won’t understand that, perhaps, but they flattered me. They offered me friendship where others only followed me with their criticism; and when I saw where it would all lead it was too late. Miles had fallen into their hands. There were terrible debts and money troubles, and I dared not tell Wolff. I knew he would send Miles away and—and I was afraid of the loneliness." "Of the loneliness!" Hildegarde echoed scornfully.