“Mr. Guy Markenmore was one of them?” “Yes.” “A particularly favoured one?” “Well—yes, I think so.” “There was, in fact, at one time, some prospect of marriage between you?” “We were certainly very fond of each other.” “We will pass from that for the moment—nothing came of it then. You married Colonel Tretheroe. But, I may take it, you—you still retained some of the old feeling for Guy Markenmore.” Mrs. Tretheroe hesitated. When she spoke again, her voice was lower in tone. “I—I didn’t know of it until—until I met him again, the other night,” she said. “But, you realized it then?” “I suppose I did. I was very pleased to see him.” “And he to meet you again, I suppose?” “Yes—indeed he was.” “Now, Mrs. Tretheroe, in the interest of justice, we want to get at the truth. When Guy Markenmore was with you alone, in your house, on Monday night, did he ask you to marry him?” “Yes—he did.” “And you replied—what?” “I promised him that I would,” answered Mrs. Tretheroe. CHAPTER VII MRS. BRAXFIELD SUPPORTS Amidst the ripple of murmured interest that ran round the room, the questioner looked significantly at the twelve jurymen, as much as to tell them to keep their ears well open; from them he turned once more to his witness. “You accepted his offer of marriage, then. Did you arrange when it was to be?” “Yes, we did.” “When?” “Almost at once. For this reason—he told me that he was obliged to go over to New York on most important business within the next week or two. I decided to go with him. So we arranged that he should get a special license and we would be married straight off.” “Any particular date?” “Yes. Next Monday morning—at Southampton.” “We may take it, then, that you and Guy Markenmore, as old lovers, on meeting once more, and you being free, fell in love with each other again, and decided to marry without further delay?” “Yes—I suppose so.” “Very well. Now, Mrs. Tretheroe, I want you to let your mind go back to the days when you were Miss Leighton. You have admitted that you had a good many suitors. Is it not a fact that out of the many there were two young gentlemen of this neighbourhood who were specially favoured by you, and that one was Mr. Guy Markenmore, and the other Mr. John Harborough, of Greycloister?” Mrs. Tretheroe showed no hesitation in answering this question. “They came first—in those days—certainly,” she admitted. “So much so, that it was commonly said, hereabouts, that you couldn’t make up your mind between them?” “I daresay that was said.” “Now, how was it that, in the end, you didn’t marry either, but did marry somebody else.” “There were reasons.” “What reasons? All this is important to the issue before the jury. What were the reasons.” “Well—they became terribly jealous of each other. From being great friends they became bitter enemies. Or, rather, Harborough conceived a terrible, wicked enmity towards Guy. Harborough got an idea that Guy had poisoned my mind against him.”