And as he walked along there dawned upon him the conviction that this was no unrehearsed scene to which he had been subjected, that there had been a cunning plot between husband and wife to entrap him. The woman’s tears were simulated; her story of ill-treatment was a myth. That bruise she showed him had been purposely made to lend colour to her story. Two days later a letter arrived from a firm of solicitors, stating that they were instructed by their client Mr. Edwards to bring an action for divorce, and requesting the name of a firm who would act for him in the matter. He made an appointment with Mr. Shelford, but before the time arrived for him to keep it, he had a visit from Glenthorne, whose usually grave face looked graver than ever when he met Wraysbury. CHAPTER TWENTY “A very terrible affair, Lord Wraysbury,” were his first remarks. “Very terrible for all parties concerned. Zillah has been to me; she is distracted. They had an awful scene after you went, and the same evening Edwards left the house. He raved that he would not spend another night under the same roof with her. Much as I deplore her conduct, I could not help pitying her.” Mr. Glenthorne seemed to make no secret of his belief in the guilt of the parties. “Of course, she swore to me that her husband had no ground for his suspicions, that unfortunately appearances were against her, that she was perfectly innocent. Well, any woman in her position would naturally say the same thing.” “Mrs. Edwards has simply told the truth,” answered Wraysbury, speaking with the warmth he felt. “She is innocent, and so am I.” “Lord Wraysbury, you will understand that I should espouse my niece’s cause if I felt I had a leg to stand upon,” said the usually taciturn man. “In that case, I would go to her husband and force him to hear reason. But how can I, in the face of such strong circumstantial evidence? How would it appear to you, if I told you the same story of somebody else? Her husband away, as she was quite sure, the servants packed off to the theatre, she alone in the house! What would a jury say?” It was on the tip of the young man’s tongue to answer that he was convinced that it was an elaborate plot, engineered by one or both and carried out with scrupulous regard to detail. But he could not say this very well to the woman’s uncle, at any rate till he had received capable advice. He took refuge in silence, till suddenly what he considered a bright idea struck him. It was his general rule to destroy all correspondence that he considered of little importance, and at the time he had certainly classed Mrs. Edwards’ letter under that category. But by the merest accident he had preserved it, and he showed it to his visitor with the observation, “If that doesn’t prove to you my visit was an innocent one, nothing will.”