“When was this?” asked Hamilton, astonished and disturbed enough, for his part. “Yesterday afternoon,” replied the other; and he hissed between his clenched teeth. “And I’ll not forgive the dishonour done to my house, or spare him though he wore the crown.” “Nay, coz,” said Hamilton. “Command yourself. How got you this information?” “How? Why, from that little cursed, prying, eavesdropping skit, her friend. And that is not all. ’Twas through ‘Kit’ the meeting came about--a common pitcher-bawd, who shall pay for it with every bone in his body broke.” “Through Kit?” “Aye; she confessed to him at last. He brought the Duke--was the tool arranged between them, no doubt. O, what measure can gauge the perfidy of woman!” “Who do you say confessed to him?” “O, a curse on your dullness! Who but Mrs. Davis.” “What, and to Kate’s collusion in the plot?” “Of course.” “Then she lied; and if she lied in one thing, the truth of all is to question.” “What do you mean?” “I mean that, unless you can conceive my cousin as the most double-faced, artful little villain in the world, Mrs. Davis was lying to you in pretending that Kate could be a party to this employment of the creature Kit.” “Why?” “Because she knows so little about Kit, that ’twas only the other day she was charging Kit to you as some probable light of your fancy before you married her. _She_ thought Kit a woman.” “Well, she knows better now.” “But, don’t you see----?” “I see nothing and know nothing but that my lady has granted the Duke a secret interview, and that I’ll call them both to account for it.” “Now, Phil, be reasonable. Even if that’s the case--and I question it--there can be harmless interviews.” “Between a Stuart and a beautiful woman? P’sha! And what grounds have you for questioning it?” “I’ve told you one. Take it from me--and I had the confession from Kate’s own lips--she’s as jealous of you and Kit as ever you can be of Kit and her.” The shaft went somewhat home. Chesterfield stood glowering and gnawing his finger. “Then who the devil _is_ Kit?” he said suddenly. “Ah!” replied Hamilton. “Who? We are all the gulls, I sometimes think, of that little scheming hussy, your wife’s friend. But do you mean to say she actually went so far as to assert that the Duke’s visit was due to Kit?” Chesterfield reflected, still devouring his finger. “Well, now I come to think on’t, she didn’t explicitly, in so many words, say as much.” “Perhaps she didn’t mention Kit at all?” “O, yes, she did! But----” “But what?” “Curse it, George!” he burst out in helpless distraction, “she has a non-committal way, I admit it, of forcing upon one conclusions which she might say she never meant to suggest. She may have been mocking me, to lead me astray. I wish she had never come; I wish I had never consented to the part you laid on me. What hath it all ended in, but disaster? Whatever the truth of the other charge, there is no blinking the fact of the Duke’s visit.”