“Had Guy Markenmore poisoned your mind?” “No, he had not! But Harborough was always jealous and suspicious, and he became so—so violent about things that—well, I dismissed him.” “And—what then as regards his rival?” Mrs. Tretheroe began to finger her rings. “Well,” she answered after a pause. “I—the fact is, I got a bit sick of the squabble, so I told Guy it wouldn’t do—and I accepted Colonel Tretheroe.” “I see. You got rid of both the youthful suitors, and married one who was older and more sensible. Very good. But now, Mrs. Tretheroe, I think something had happened before that. You said just now that Harborough conceived a terrible, wicked enmity towards Guy Markenmore. Now, is it a fact that Harborough threatened his rival in your presence?” “Yes—it is.” “When? On what occasion?” “It was one day when he met Guy and myself coming home from hunting. There was a scene—high words, Harborough lost his temper. He told Guy that he’d settle him. And I know for a fact that he afterwards threatened him again—he said he’d kill him.” “How do you know that for a fact?” “Because Guy told me of it.” “Was he afraid of Harborough?” “I think he was. Harborough had a very black, ugly temper—when crossed.” “And he threatened to kill his rival because of—what, exactly?” “Well, as I said just now, he’d got it into his head that Guy had said things about him to me, and that his chances with me had been destroyed by that.” “Then I take it that Harborough, at that period, had asked you to marry him?” Mrs. Tretheroe arched her eyebrows in a glance of surprise. “Lots of times!” she answered. “He was always asking me to marry him.” “And—did you give him any decided answer?” “I don’t know about decided answer. At one time—perhaps I would: then I used to think that I wouldn’t. No—I don’t think I ever said I would or I wouldn’t, definitely.” “And all this time, I suppose, Guy Markenmore was in the running, also.” “Yes.” “Was he asking you to marry him, too?” “Oh, yes. They were always teasing me—both of them.” “And in the end Harborough got the idea that his rival was undermining him?” “Yes—he certainly did. He said so.” “And later—you—shall we say, dismissed both, and accepted Colonel Tretheroe?” “Yes.” “Did you ever see either of them again after becoming engaged to Colonel Tretheroe?” “I never saw Guy Markenmore. I saw Harborough once. I met him one afternoon, near here, accidentally.” “Anything take place?” “Yes. He went into one of his passions. He reproached me bitterly. He said I’d led him on for three years and then thrown him aside. And he finished up by repeating that he knew he’d Guy Markenmore to thank for it, and that if he ever came across him again, however long it might be, he’d shoot him like a dog.” When the sensation caused by this reply had died down, the questioner gave Mrs. Tretheroe a searching look. “You swear that he said this—on your oath?” “On my oath!”