Ashton laughed savagely. "Apologise! What for? It's the truth, and you know it. Apologise! I'll repeat it.... I say that you were in Paris three weeks ago with Esther Shepstone, one of the girls from Eldred's...." Micky suddenly stopped struggling, but his breath came in deep gasps as he spoke. He looked round at the faces of the other men. "I know most of you--here," he said in a laboured voice. "And most of you know me--and you know that I'm not a damned liar like Ashton; and I know that you'll believe me--believe me--when I tell you that the lady who was with me in--in Paris--three weeks ago--is my wife ... we've been married some time--and it is solely by her wish that it has been kept a secret." If Micky had dropped a bomb in the room it could hardly have created more consternation. The incredulity on the faces of the men around him would have been amusing to an onlooker, but to Micky the whole thing was tragedy. He had brought Esther to this with his blundering quixotism; he was nearly beside himself with remorse. If he had been free he would have half killed Ashton. His hands ached to get at him; to take him by his lying throat and choke the breath from his body. He looked at the men around him with passionate eyes. "I've never given any of you cause to doubt my word yet," he said hoarsely. "And I'm sure you'll agree with me that this man should be made to retract what he said and apologise." "Certainly--he ought to apologise. It's disgraceful--infernally disgraceful," said a man who had been listening to Ashton's story eagerly enough a moment ago. "What do you say, gentlemen?" There was a chorus of assent. The men who had been holding Micky's arms let him go. Ashton backed a step away. His face was livid, his eyes furious, but he knew that there was no other course open to him; nobody in the room had any sympathy with him now. "I apologise," he said savagely. "I didn't know that--the--lady--Mellowes had married--the lady." His tone added that even now he did not believe it; he edged away to the door and disappeared. Micky dropped into a chair; he looked thoroughly done up. Some one pushed a glass of whisky across to him. There was an uncomfortable silence. Perhaps they were all feeling guilty; perhaps they all remembered with what relish they had listened to this spicy bit of scandal. "Never could stand Ashton," some one said presently, in gruff abasement. "Worm--the man is!--perfect outsider!" There were several grunts of assent; the sympathy was decidedly with Micky. After a moment he rose to his feet. "I suppose an apology is due from me too," he said; he spoke with difficulty. "But I think any of you--in the same circumstances----" He waited a moment. "Quite right--certainly.... Should have done the same myself." Micky smiled faintly. "And I am sure you won't let this go any further--for--for my wife's sake," he added.