Gastineau laughed confidently. “Then there is safety in numbers--for the real culprit. Our old friend, no doubt, the _spretæ injuria formæ_ for motive. Well, let us hope two things, one that for the lady’s sake it won’t come out further, and, secondly, if it does, that Geoffrey Herriard will be retained for the defence.” “It would be the trial of the century.” “Quite. Thanks for coming in. Look here, by-the-bye,” Gastineau reached to the table that stood by him, and took up some pages of manuscript. “I have got out a peroration for your speech in Rullington, supposing it comes to that stage. I got my mind full of the case, and I can’t help making speeches as I lie here. I think it is rather taking, if I may say so.” “You need not say so, at any rate,” Herriard laughed. “It would not be your speech if it wasn’t effective.” “Ah, well, it is just the sort of thing that used to go down with them. There’s your part.” He tossed the papers towards Herriard. “Take it and learn it. And now, good-night. By the way,” he added, with a half yawn as Herriard pressed his hand and turned to go, “you can’t recollect the name of the German medico you met to-night?” “I’m afraid I don’t,” the other answered. “Why?” “Oh, nothing. A sick man’s trivial curiosity, a failing I never had time for when I lived in the busy world. Good-night. _A demain._” As the door closed upon Herriard, a strange look of suspicion had come over Gastineau’s face. CHAPTER VII THE FIERY ORDEAL Before many days had passed Countess Alexia had reason to know that the enemy she had made and defied was at work against her. Her instinctive judgment of her unwelcome admirer’s character had surely prepared her for this. And in truth Aubrey Playford was one of those men whose chivalry is but skin-deep: it is merely the veneer of their education and breeding, the mask which covers a malignant and unscrupulous soul. The man could be trusted to act according to the recognized codes of honour and propriety so long as his own interest and feelings were not deeply touched; when passion, developing into a spirit of vindictiveness, clashed with the code, the mask shrivelled away and the real man showed his face.