"And who invented the atrocious crime of last February? Who was in our house in Dulwich that night?" "I read the case, and saw that Mr. Thomas Blake was at your house on that night." "And where were you?" "In Brussels. Good heavens!--you cannot imagine I had anything to do with that awful night! The idea is too monstrous to resent--to think of for a moment. I swear to you I was in Brussels at the time, and that I never did, or thought of doing, any injury to your husband. I loved him well; but I loved some one else better---better than all the world besides." He did not look at her, but kept his eyes fixed on the sea. She moved as if to go. He heard the motion, and went to her and stood between her and the house. "I will not say another word about myself; but hear me out. If I have nothing to hope for, let me go away in the belief I am not unjustly suspected by you of hurting your husband. I never cared much for my life. Let me feel that when I die I shall not be worse in your eyes than I deserve to be. Mrs. Davenport, hear me." He entreated her with his voice, with his eyes, with his bent body, with his outstretched hands. Without speaking, she gave him to understand he might go on. "I knew Mr. Davenport years before I saw you. I had business connections with him which would not bear the light. You must have heard or guessed something of what we have been busy about?" She made no sign--said nothing. "I was a steel engraver. Now and then he wanted plates done. I did the plates for him." "What kind of plates?" She betrayed no emotion of any kind. Her voice was as calm as though she was asking an ordinary question. "You had better not know. It would do you no good to know. But do you believe me that I was hundreds of miles away from London that awful night?" "And what brought you back to this place now?" "I came back--because you are free!" She made a gesture of impatience and dissent. "You do not mean to say you will continue your suspicion in the face of my denial, in the face of my horror at the mere thought?" "But why should I take your unsupported word? If you are innocent, why were you so horrified at the mere thought of inquiry?" "But, good heavens! Mrs. Davenport, you did not for a moment imagine I was afraid of inquiry into anything which occurred in February? I thought the inquiry to which you referred had reference to some old transactions between me and Mr. Davenport?" "What were these transactions?" "I beg of you not to ask. What good can it do to go into matters so far back? You would find my answers of no advantage to you." "Were they of a business character?" "Purely of a business character, I assure you." "And they would not bear the light?" "Not with advantage to me." "Or to my husband?" "Or with advantage to your late husband." "And to you, and to you alone the secret of these transactions is now known?" "To me, and to me alone."